The Circle of Tortall
by WickedWillows
Summary: The four Circle mages of Emelan are sent to Tortall against their will. While trying to regain their senses, the leaders of the Eastern lands find themselves desperate to unravel their mysterious appearance and threat of war from unforeseen enemies. The gods themselves find interest in such a strange new development. VERY NEW WORK IN PROGRESS.
1. Chapter 1

Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Berenene of Namorn, was not the kind of woman who would easily admit defeat. Her almost decade long warfare with the realm of Yanjing would prove that to be one of her strongest supported example of that trait. So when her Council of Lords voted, against her underhanded suggestions, to overthrow a long-standing tradition of the empire, despite the fact that it enhanced "her standing and her position" in the world, Berenene held a grudge. And, unfortunately for her young cousin, Sandrilene fa Toren had been one of the instigating factors in ruining the Empress's reputation (or so the Empress thought). She had recently employed a young woman of strange descent, who had travelled across the Endless Sea, possessing strange magic and claiming she had been witness to transportation between the realms of mortals and gods; in addition, the girl was weak-willed, who was able to describe other ways of portals that Berenene's lead mage would be able to provide. Whether that was true or not, the Empress was more than willing to provide monetary conciliation to this Varice of Carthak, not only to be a replacement for Olenikka Potcracker, but to send her idea of vengeance upon Sandrilene and her cursed foster-siblings. And, in any case, Berenene could always use another lady-in-waiting. They were such weak, fickle things.

* * *

In Emelan, young Sandrilene was happily weaving a rather difficult commission, not from a noble relative or foster-sibling, but from the council of Winding Circle. They had mages aplenty, not counting her own teacher Lark, a dedicate of the Earth Temple, but the job was a rather complicated task. It involved payment not only from the council, but from her great-uncle, Duke Vedris of Emelan, as it was a net of pure magic to entrap a criminal using a type of craft both feared and undetectable from normal investigators.

Sandrilene was a striking girl who caught the interest of many who met her; she had bright blue eyes, full of awareness and intelligence, but could soften her fierce expression with genuine happy manners and graceful tact. She wore elegant yet casual clothing one would expect from nobles. Her overdress was of purple silk embroidery, worn over a full blush pink gown. A veil of pale grey covered her sandy blond hair, cleverly tied in threaded braids which round about her head in a mesmerizing design. Despite being young and unmarried, the lady was polished and efficient, governing the domestic portion of her great-uncle Vedris's household. She was also an accomplished mage working primarily with thread-craft, amongst other more exotic skills that other mages could not and would not be able to understand.

She enjoyed working in her sitting room. Despite the rather seedy element her net would have to play in the Provost's investigation, Sandry deftly imbued different cords for safety, strength, and stability. Her layering of the net was set in a pentagram, with a pattern meant to help strengthen and contain her power. Sandrilene's maid Amelica demurely interrupted her.

"Milady, I have finished with your bedchamber and attached rooms. Would you prefer I wait until tomorrow for your sitting room?" she asked not timidly, but politely, for Sandrilene was kind to the servants and well-respected.

Sandry looked about herself and sighed. She was not a messy character, but she had withheld letting the staff clean for several days. Despite her power and vigilance, the floors needed cleaning, the window shelves burdened with bird activity, and the candelabras needed restocking – the rugs, couches, and tapestries did not dare to need attention. However, with that in mind, the girl had just finished a net woven of magic and fabric meant to trap several thieves. The net employed several different types of magic that would confuse and befuddle trackers, both magical and physical, and she was tired and pleased to have done some more sophisticated work than hemming and embroidering her families' clothing.

Though, at the thought, she sighed. Briar has stopped wearing breeches that resisted dirt stains in the knees, despite patches and new clothes she made. Daja never let her know about the apron that her apprentice used, burning it to a crisp in an effort to test its' magical strength. Tris, bless Mila of the Grain, let Chime help fold her laundry. The glass dragon could reflect magic on her own and rip apart much finer stitching with her claws. Her uncle, luckily, had no such magical damage on his clothes – but Sandry did want to make him another set of tunics, breeches, and cloaks, which he refused to be bought on his own accord. His choice in colors still left much to be desired to inflate the populace's faith in his health. Beyond which, Sandry was not sure whether he may want her to take notice in these details as a sign of affection, lest his temper be raised from an attention on his previous ill health. He was a lonely and intimidating person, but she loved and respected him all the same, and desired his safety and powerful presence with the kingdom to be known.

"Not at all, Amelica. I would have just finished in any case. Please start on this side of the room, while I gather the rest of this fabric." Sandry briskly folded up the net that she had finished to tuck into a basket near her couch. While she was gathering, Amelia was checking throughout the room for tasks to perform.

"I see again that your tapestries and comforters need no help – why I wonder if they have the courage to move while you sleep, milady!" Amelica jested. Sandry smiled, but was spent at moving her materials into the basket. So much more of the net was present than she expected! With some chagrin, she noticed she had occupied more of the morning tasked with the project and a fair bit of her magical reserves were used in the mission.

"Ah, what a bother," Sandry muttered. "Amelica," she asked politely, "would you mind holding off cleaning my rooms? If you could find the Guardsmen Oama and Kwaben, I need to go into the city."

"Yes, milady," Amelica replied good-naturedly. "Shall I send a message to milord your uncle, or would you prefer to send it yourself?"

Sandry, already into the hallway with a basket full of powerful magic, laughed. "Have a wonderful day, Amelica, and please do not worry about the rugs! I have made sure that everything is in order. I am heading to my lord Uncle presently."

* * *

In the forge and smithies attached to 33 Cheeseman Street, Daja Kisobu faced several options. The first was fixing the mistake of an apprentice, Treue. Skilled she was, but confident the apprentice was not. She had managed to melt down several types of metal together into an alloy that could be spelled into a rather powerful protection element for what it was used for. However, the girl did not have the power that Daja commanded and had tried several academic spells that had rendered the metal useless for future work.

Daja was a stoutly built woman that made many turn back for a second glance. Her dark brown skin was not uncommon in the Summersea market, nor her dark brown eyes and multitude of fine braids, or even her strong, well-muscled appearance. However, her purposeful stride, wrapped usually in a gaggle of well-muscled female and male apprentices always drew attentions from the local market. Despite this, Daja kept her bronze-clad hand out of sight, for its magical residue and strange, flexible nature brought her notice she preferred to avoid. Furthermore, the Trader's staff she carried gave her many looks from the market stands and vendors she frequented, but others throughout the realm still held some guarded opinions about her tribal-like family.

While overlooking her apprentice's work and considering her approach for the discipline, she was well-aware that some of the male apprentices were watching more than cleaning. Daja grimaced to herself. Several of the men had already suggested to her that they travel to her bed, in attempt to have better treatment in her forge; the gossipy of the rejects had suggested her preference to women be the cause of her refusal to them – while her opinions of apprentices rested solely on talent, dedication, and performance, she knew that treating her female students any differently would be problematic. Furthermore, her intentions to be a good forge-master and teacher left things clear. Treue could cause problems she would have to deal with in the future, if she used magic and forge time without Daja's approval in the future. Plus, the lecture would let all the other apprentices know she did not play favorites, despite Treue being a comely girl.

"Treue, may I speak to you a moment?" Daja asked politely, as the apprentice was washing tools and body in the courtyard well.

The girl nodded, only looking slightly frightened, but mostly apprehensive. Daja had heard the apprentices berate her all day. Treue knew what was coming. She would not be dismissed, as Daja was well-aware of the feeling of not belonging – nor would she be discouraged to practice magic. But she would have to learn to be careful with power, with working among men, and to not use the common well to wash tools and soot away.

"And for Hakkoi's sake," Daja rebuked gently afterwards, "do not wear silk, wear linen and leather! You're a blacksmith! Give the men another reason to ogle you if you want rightful respect; as for the other women," seeing Treue's blush and wanting to avoid one of her own, "they will help if you ask for it. They also like proper aprons and have plenty of tips for forge life," with a quick grin. Treue smiled and bowed, going to help the household prepare for dinner.

* * *

Briar Moss grinned from his second floor bedroom terrace. He shouldn't have heard the conversation from the courtyard around the smithies area of the house, but part of his terrace covered the entire property. The property of the entire household's plants knew to whisper to him. And he did appreciate knowing whether the young pretty smith still wore clothing that smoked and frayed.

Not that the young bronze man minded any other messages either. His dark black hair, intrigued eyebrows, and plant green eyes seemed to appreciate the constant barrage of information from the greenery. He was, after all, a thief in his early life. And, as he thought to himself often, who didn't want to know as much as possible, as soon as possible. Duke Vedris often needed information quickly; listening to plants was a helpful, convenient option and, in Briar's case, it was an easy, truthful option, knowing what transpired around the house.

Not that Briar thought his sisters were up to trouble. Sandry spent her entire day in the castle keep, seeped in spells to protect from that kind of thing. Daja spent her day in the forge, renewing spells on metal and herself indiscriminatingly. And he never worried about spells, charms, or curses on Tris. If she did not catch them herself, and she was more prone to denouncing some as a common cold, she would put barriers around her third floor room faster than she could say "It was war, _pavao_."

He grinned and thought about himself. He was in the peak of health, having just cultured an entire shaken garden based on three different kingdoms. The best went to Sandry and Duke Vedris, being his home country and patrons, of sort; but he was sending some others to Berenene and some to Yanjing, both of whom he had… offended in the past.

"Boy!" a slowly spoken yet imperious voice sounded from the courtyard. "Come down this instant. Did you not receive word that we were coming?"

"Briar, for goodness sake," another voice called, "Luvo and I ain't seen you in ages! And I would like to see Daja, and Sandry always has advice. And she's nice! It's been such a long ride and Rosethorn made me leave all my stones but the throwing discs!"

Briar raced to the balcony, tripping over his common brown breeches. He had not bothered to put a tunic over his undershirt, since he had been working in the garden all day. With this slightly unorthodox attire, he slammed into the balcony to greet his teacher's and his student's voice.

"We may be staying the night. Tell the housekeeper," Rosethorn instructed, already partially disentangled from her horse, Ladylove. Looking up and seeing him partially dressed with a shakkan complaining about the bitter wind, she scowled. Briar said nothing in reply, throwing up a hand in greeting, but closed his balcony door to prepare for visitors and windy conditions. Evvy waved violently, while partially falling off her horse; a strange, purple being waited near her, having walked the distance. Luvo could not be carried by any horse. Evvy landed well, fleeing into the servants' entrance. Rosethorn followed aggressively, turning to wave servants into the proper buildings. She stopped only to kneel at an altar for Mila the Grain by Brian's herb garden.

* * *

Tris dodged the open oven to look at her family, since her only trustworthy cook was on duty. Rosethorn and Evvy bickered like the student and teacher relations she knew while Luvo watched on carefully from the corner. Daja had made a metal stool of bronze with a few extra qualities to keep his magical weight in check, so he chuckled as he pleasantly sat away from the table and servants. Evvy had already left her place to bring some tea to Luvo – Tris grinned. Luvo hated tea and cookies. He waited till the desert portion to complain, so he could politely ask the rest of the table for conversation, when their mouths were not full.

Sandry and Daja quietly conversed, aloud for the tables' comfort, about the crimes around the city. Sandry explained that her net was doing wonderful work, despite her fear that without dance magic it would be useless. During her foster siblings' travels, Sandry had instructed a dance mage in basic magic and helped the Provost to catch criminals with his help. Pasco and his dance teacher Yasmin had since left to travel, but Sandry was left comforted. Several mages from Lightsbrigde had joined the dancing company towards the eastern lands. Pasco would be safe.  
On the other side, Daja spoke to Sandry about the constant trial of her apprentices. She missed working in a mage's workshop where she was free from common speculation and judgment. The extra money from commissions and the thrill of helping youngsters gave her pleasure, but Daja chafed at running a household on her own and trying to mediate between men and women who worked metal craft, particularly those that berated her type of craft or who only spoke of academic magic.

After the dinner had ended and their guests had departed to return to Winding Circle, Tris felt a cold wind hit the house. In the middle of the summer month of Mead, that would be unexpected; Tris and the others had set several powerful protections around the house, and something out of the ordinary could be a type of magical premonition. She was prepared to be cautious, particularly because her family had been caught unaware before. Raising a hand to hold Chime against her neck, she flung open a pair of shutters facing the northern portion of Summersea.

Silently, she and her foster family touched base within their minds, using the power that the four had forged early in their magical careers. This skill gave them the ability to transfer strength to each other, communicate without verbal sound, and perform complex and unique workings; but it was notorious in the entire magical community, as they had broken several magical laws in the process.

" _This wind is unusual and full of power I don't normally see,"_ Tris told them. _"We should be cautious and look around; no storms were predicted for several weeks."_

Sandry grimaced. _"Uncle has received all his taxes and correspondence from all but Namorn. The law just passed that the kidnapping of West Namorn has changed. The Empress says nothing publically, but Ambros writes that she continues to rage. We 'did' defy her will."_

" _You're right,"_ the boy responded _, "We should get the staff and household away if we can. Us too. This is magic that we've not felt before, Coppercurls, unless you can tell any different. Seems to have four streams and those—"_

Daja interrupted, " _Everyone, throw up your best protections now! We are about to be hit by something tha—"_

The overwhelming rush of magic hit the four like a tidal wave. They did not feel any pain, nor did they wake up for hundreds of hundreds of hours, at least in their own realm. However, the blast of magic jolted the most powerful mage of the realm of Tortall, Numair Salmalin. His wife, Daine Salmalin, rolled out a bed with a nightmare threatening her kingdom. A dragonet named Kitten scurried between her legs and tried to escape the blankets spread across the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Kitten danced between Daine's leg and the bedpost. Her trills reached an octave that would have been irritating to the babe Sarralyn, but Numair grabbed the dragon's chin, thumb below her mussel with an index finger above.

"Well that was an interesting occurrence," Numair commented gently. With the Scanran War coming to an end with few magical emergencies occurring, the two most powerful mages of the realm were housed in the palace. Numair was charged with knowledge of general magic, such as the Gift; he was considered one of the strongest mortal men of magecraft. His early livelihood and schooling in Carthak gave him a wild and wide genre of experience in the mortal realm. Besides this, he briefly spent some time in the Divine Realm and the Dragonlands, which also granted experience in the power of testing himself against divine creatures. Numair's strength was measured; his expression and temperament was outwardly mild and eccentric, but his mind was swift, strong, and severely educated.

"Are you alright, my dear?" he asked mildly, helping her gently to her feet. "And you, baby Rikhash?" he asked, kissing her cheek. Daine stood up slowly, holding her lower back - her silky dressing gown fell around a billowing stomach.

Daine smiled and winked at Numair. It was a gesture consisting not only of love and respect, but with a bit of mischief. As partners, the two were well matched in temperament. Their powers were both strong, but of different sort. Veralidaine was half-goddess, hailing from the Gallan hunt god Weiryn, though her mother Sarra was mortal when Daine was born. Sarra had since joined the Divine Realms as a minor goddess. Daine, however, remained in the mortal realms and was known as the Wildmage. Her magic allowed her access into the minds and bodies of all animal People, using their shapes and skills. And her heritage from a hunt god made any who see her with a strung bow cautious and careful.

Sarralyn grinned between the two, somehow seeming to sense a charge was coming. Kitten, determined despite the strange rush of magic before, was swift to handle the baby. Soon, the blue grey dragonet had the girl in her cradle. The young immortal looked back to her parents with a curious glance; she too was a powerful mage, despite her youth. Dragons possessed various powers and age alone prevented Kitten from providing more service than she already had in the ending war.

"I did have a dream, before that curious rush of sensation," Daine told Numair. "It was strange," she confessed, with half of the memory seeming to disappear as she pondered. "I dreamed of the magical walls that, in the past, used to prevent immortals from passing through the Divine and Mortal Realms. And," with a half-glance at Kitten, who was rocking the nearby cradle, "of the mosaic in the University of Carthak, where a black robed mage opens a fiery portal in the sky."

Numair sleepily grinned at her, but his eyes were thoughtful. "Your dream may be on the mark, my dear. The surge of power I felt was something similar to portals opening. I'm afraid I haven't felt such a spell since the mage-made barrier between the realms was broken last year. And it continues to resonate," he pondered with a glance towards the window, almost as if he could see whatever occurred in the pink-white sky.

"But," she continued, "it's nearing morning, and my animals are panicked. So I would like to know what we need to be doing, besides calmly discussing yet another magical phenomenon; and if I have time, assure the animals that everything will be well. The Rider's new horses haven't felt such powerful magic before." She grinned wryly at Numair and continued. "Though I'm a fair bit surprised myself at whatever it was." She gently walked towards a vanity dresser and began to dress.

Numair grinned. "That is true, my dearest. Have you ever wondered what magic past the sea can accomplish? Because the surge I felt came from many strong mages from very, very far away. Not even in the Divine Realms did I feel such a surge of power." The two were quick to ready. Daine set up everything she would need to bring Kitten and Sarra away from the nursery. But she swiftly stood tall, listening to messages coming throughout the palace animals. Mice rushed from the dressing room where Numair was, chattering news. The door to the hallway received several knocks.

Numair strode to the door, unbound hair billowing. Daine settled the baby and dodged Kit, who was dancing around with the mice.

"Milord," a gasping manservant exclaimed, bowing to the six foot three mage, "and milady," with a quick dip of a bow towards Daine, "his Majesty requests your presences as soon as possible. He awaits you in the Gold Room, along with the Majesties, the queen, prince, and princess." The servant then rushed down the second floor hallway to knock on several other doors.

"It seems we are expected," Numair said wryly to the wildmage. Leaning down, he kissed her gently, leaning further for a swift peck on their daughter's forehead. His long strides out of the room were followed with the quick clicking of Kitten's nails on stone and the soft parade of Daine's boots. Their door closed with a soft click and flare of black magic, edged in white streaks, to protect their suite of rooms.

They reached the royal wing of the palace quickly, nodding to guards and nobles they passed. Upon reaching the Gold Room, Numair knocked briskly; Alan of Pirate's Swoop, the squire to Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, opened the door and ushered them inside.

The two mages, being illustrious and notable in their own right, felt no qualms settling around a table of the most prominent men and women of their time.

King Jonathan was a handsome and intimidating man, with coal-black hair and icy blue eyes. His entire bearing, from posture, clothing, and magical aura, suggested that this strong-willed man would and could command an entire country. His eyes missed very little, though he did clasp hands with Numair and send a white-toothed smile to Daine and Sarra. Kitten chirped in greeting and began to wrestle with a large stool that had been provided. While he was sitting back down, the king had to rearrange the long sword hooked to his belt and rested his hand on a hefty leather pouch containing the Dominion Jewel. Daine felt, rather than saw, Numair's attention focus on that ancient magical tool – its presence let her know that the king was worried.

A pale hand quickly boosted the dragonet to the top of the stool. Queen Thayet, called many as the Peerless, was no stranger to the young dragon or to meetings such as this. Her beauty intimidated, with classically flawless skin, red lips, and green eyes, but were offset with a nose that gave her face needed mortal character. Her tumble of black hair was braided into plaids, but arranged above her skull into a crown that jewelry could enhance but not replace. Her gown, while elegant and costly, was closely fitted in the sleeves and waist, with a large and very flexible skirt. Everyone could see that she wore boots underneath and arm guards for bowstring mishaps. A propped glaive next to her chair gave her presence a direct and deadly edge.

Two others sat near the king and queen's side of the table. The heir to the throne, Roald of Conte, held hands with his betrothed Yamani princess, Shinkokami. The prince, like his father, was dark haired and blue eyed. His discreet manner and small presence was belying. He was a powerful mage, skilled hunter, and, when needed, could prove to be as forceful as his legendary sire. The princess was ethereal in an Eastern style dress, with an under dress that hinted with foreign influence, basing itself as if it were a kimono. Willowy and petite, the maiden's straight back and forthcoming gaze gave credit to her presence. In addition, she held a series of letters with long draping ribbons, patterned as cherry blossoms.

The mages were not the first to join the royal family, showing that there was some kind of massive threat occurring, that needed the full council of the king's advisors. Raoul of Golden Lake and Marjorie's Peak, Commander of the King's Own, sat like a mountain at one end of the table. Wearing the blue and white uniform of the Own, his normally cheery face was carefully guarded. His new squire, Alan, seemed to be less worried and more excited at such a conference. Alan bustled with a serious, intent manner, serving drinks to all.

Alan's grandfather, Myles of Olau, sipped tea mildly. The older man, in his usual manner, seemed to have no cares in the world, despite the fact that he distilled information throughout the realm to keep his majesty informed. With clothes that were well made but not always well taken care of, Myles looked as if he had rolled out of bed to eat snacks and socialize. The only belying element was a large stack of paper next to him that another of their guests was helping to neatly stack.

When one sees a seven-foot basilisk gently arranging paperwork, one is startled. Seven-foot anythings tend to cause concern, and when seeing grey, beaded skin with a tail long enough to drape over its own arm, basilisks are intimidating. When one learns the creatures can use their sight and sing their opponents into a stone statue, he or she would tend to fear the creatures even more. But Tkaa was an immortal with good standing in Tortall. He helped both Daine and Numair raise young Kitten, being a distant cousin of sorts with dragon kind. He also helped Myles and his mysterious team of spies throughout the realm. Tkaa often claimed that, as messengers of lore in the time before immortals had been sequestered into the Divine Realms, being a messenger and being a spy were similar occupations.

A stern-faced, purple eyed redhead also sat at the table nearby her adoptive father, sparing a quick grin with both mages, child, and dragon, but quickly returned her attention to her son. While Alanna of Pirate's Swoop, the Lioness, King's Champion of Tortall, was not the knight master charged with rearing Alan through his squiredom, her purple eyes missed nothing and her swiftly critic tongue often gave her trouble. She lounged in a relaxed, imperious manner while tapping at her sword hilt. Despite this casual attitude, she seemed anxious – her purple eyes seemed to glow with her own colored purple Gift, as if she focused in her mind, rather on her bustling squire son.

Daine and Numair settled into chairs of their own, content to wait for the rest of the council. Sarra barely had enough time to bounce once or twice before the last three nobles arrived. Gareth of Naxen, the Elder, was a fierce warrior long associated with the Crown; his son, Gary, was of a similar tall, thin stature whose ink stained hands could quickly grip weapons abound to serve the crown. The last noble, Padraig haMinch, was not normally privy to Royal counsels, being the training master of nobles aiming towards knighthood – however, with his summer training session approaching, leading young pages through the realm, he had been a frequent member of the last few weeks of meetings. Any threats that might come toward those young nobles was a focus that King Jonathan doted on, with Duke Gareth the Elder's approval, being a previous training master himself.

When the last three men sat themselves, the table entered a swift quiet moment. The king quickly took it upon himself to get things started.

"Bright Mithros, Mother Godess," he began, "other gods overlooking all peoples, look on us in these uncertain times of war and strife. Protect us from the seen and unseen. Bless our endeavors. So mote it be."

"So mote it be," the rest chorused. Kitten leaned forward in interest, claws clicking onto the table.

The slight princess leaned forward first, taking a large breathe. "I would like to speak." The two monarchs nodded decisively, making some of the other nobles furrow their brows. What news did the king and queen know already from their new allies?

"The Emperor has told my family about merchant trains he has sent across the Endless Sea. As your own scholars, mages, and travelers have told you, it is a distant land with a difficult voyage. However, several other nations and lands live there." The princes swiftly brought out a fan to cover her face, but halfway through the action remembered herself. She gently fanned her face and brought the tool back to her lap.

Sir Gareth the Elder opened his mouth to ask a question, but silenced himself with a glance from the queen. The princess continued.

"The Emperor has made contact with some other nations we have had no notion of before. Since I have left the Isles, he has made many connections I have very little to say of. My family writes," she announced, lifting the many beribboned letters, "that the Emperor desires to keep the alliance he has forged with my wedding. But, "and she hesitated, squeezing Roald's hand, "he doesn't fear the might of Tortall should his access into these new lands continue."

The council exchanged glances. Not only were they processing new information, but trusting and hearing a new voice amongst their numbers, for the princess had not previously been privy to these private state meetings, was something that took a few moments to process.

Myles placed his empty glass on the table with a small snap. "There is more to report, though it may only be rumor," he remarked with a mild look in his eyes. "Throughout the capitol, mages report of temporary sickness and dreams that cause fear, along with a blast of power not felt on this scale in recent time." The council's gazes went straight toward Numair and Daine.

"We need more time to investigate," Numair calmly assured the nobles. With a quick look at the monarchs, the Lioness, and the Naxens, "We were not the only ones to feel the disturbance this morning, am I correct?"

With purple eyes flashing, the Lioness grabbed the goblet of cider in front of her. "I woke up with a headache from whatever nastiness occurred. My necklace burned like it has not since before the Battle of Port Legann. Whatever happened, it is something the entire Scanran War hasn't set off. If only it warned me of Aly and –"

"Lioness," the king quietly interrupted. Alanna looked up quickly at their company, at her son Alan, whose face was pale and his grip on the wine shaking, and subtly leaned back into her chair. Numair followed up.

"Daine and I felt some kind of disturbance as well. Whether it deals with trouble in the Yamani Isles," he said with a gracious nod to the princess, "or something else we should worry about, we will prepare as we can. It will take time; setting up scrying spells for the disturbances is a lengthy process. Beyond that, we need to know what to look for. Myles will bring us information we cannot find magically, if he can help us narrow the search down."

Daine also nodded quickly. "And I'm afraid my skills might be harder to deal with. Rikash," she stated with a grin toward her giant belly, "has given me many distractions for several months, beyond even what this blessing of a cherub did," with a kiss on Sarra's sleeping forehead. "Even with being able to have animals search and spy for me, I'm afraid to say I'm hard pressed to catch everything or distill information properly." Sarra chose that time to conveniently hiccup, open her eyes, and reach for Daine's hair. By the time the baby was attempting waking up properly, Daine needed to leave the council with the baby crying, trying to shield the meeting from distraction. Kitten whistled from her stool, but did not leave the conference.

The queen shifted in her seat, turning back to face the princess. "Have the letters your family sent indicated what exactly the Emperor expects from pursuing these alliances? Have we any information on their strengths or his actual intent for Tortall?"

The princess shook her head slowly. "My family has not been moved away from the palace in any kind of disgrace, but throughout the war, with the marriage not officiated, my family reports little through correspondence. I fear that the Emperor is planning on reducing their privileges, despite the fact my family and I have obliged him with this treaty. Though," with a quick grin to Roald, who smiled in return, "I worry only for my family here and abroad, for my fate proves to be a lucky one."

"So now we research," Myles said decisively. "I will send my agents out to discover what we can; Numair will research whatever surge of magic was felt through the realms; and Daine, when possible, will assist with her multitude of spies. The rest of our lords," with a nod to the other councilmen, "can continue with their own duties, keeping their ears and eyes to the ground for things we may miss."

"And," King Jonathan softly replied, "we can continue in our hard earned peace; immortals, Tortallan bandits, and natural disasters counted aside, of course."

"So mote it be," the rest chorused.


	3. Chapter 3

Sandry woke up with a headache rivaling some of her worst days of magical recovery, with a strange recounting of the time her siblings tried alcohol for the first time. She was sweating profusely and felt acutely uncomfortable lying across hot sand.

With a quick mental stop, and a check with her hands, she realized she was _actually_ on hot sand. She sat up slowly, trying to focus her thoughts on where she was and what had happened to her.

"Mila, give me strength," she prayed aloud, looking at the vast desert around her. She lay in the middle of several sand dunes with no footsteps anywhere around her, nor landscapes to help provide any sense of direction.

She slowly stood. Her legs and arms wobbled with the effort, but she gently sank into her core, trying to find her siblings with her magic. She slowly fell into her center, seeing her magic as a fiery spindle. Her friends were here too, as was her Uncle, her old teachers, and students, with a thread to connect everyone. She attempted teasing a thread and questing down her magic to Daja, who felt the closest – all the other ties, especially those not to her siblings, felt weak and shaky.

With a sudden blast of strange power, Sandry was jolted out of her quest, falling further down the sand dune she stood in. Her mind reeling, she realized she could barely feel Daja at all now, only a small recognition that her sister was alive. With a gasp, she reached into a pouch hanging around her neck to find her thread circle, only to stop halfway through the action. She and her siblings had recently escaped a magical border in Namorn, her empress-cousin's territory, and destroyed the magical artifact in yet another magical feat. They hadn't understood the occasion themselves, which caused the thread to be destroyed and to leave a physical scar on each, but Sandry was terrified to not be able to contact her sister.

Taking a deep breath, she began to worry about her conditions in the present. She shook out her expensive silks, thanking the gods she was wearing light layers, and began to reshape her veils to prevent sunstroke and overheating. A quick shake of her skirts and petticoats took care of wrinkles and a brush across her breast brought cool relief and an explosion of sand, fleeing pockets where it did not belong.

Just feeling worried enough to try again, reaching for an even longer distance to contact Briar, a shout stopped her. Though she did not understand the language, she held her ground, keeping her strength in reserve; the guards of Carthak, having been sent by the emperor and the mages of the royal university to look for a disturbance in the magical realms, yelled "Hold, in the name of our august emperor!"

* * *

Briar woke to the loud cries of monkeys. With immediate watchfulness, he sprung to his feet, ignoring his aching bones and pounding headache. Grabbing a knife from his lower back and one from his boot, he slowly crept through draping vines and heavily leafed ferns of jungle land. He wobbled near some more poisonous looking flowers, exhilarated to see something new and feeling frighteningly afraid. Had some dream possessed him to return to the dangers of Yanjing or was he merely fantasizing of the newest exotic garden to create? The plants and climates made him fear he was trapped in another dangerous world, where imperial might would keep him chained and those he loved in torture. His night terrors from warfare had left Briar mentally scarred, though he was on the mend.

Hearing a scream, he decided to hold off judgment but investigate.

He slowly crept towards the noise, though he still felt off balanced and paranoid. He spread out his magic into the wildlife, feeling completely new sensations. The trees were hardy and able to live in multitudes of climates, though this jungle-like climate was clearly their best habitat. He felt the fruit bearing plants lavish in the attention of howler monkeys, whose travels spread to other areas of the plateau to spread their seed. The lower level ferns with their poison slowly crept toward this new creature, the boy who felt like kin.

The grasses, jungle vines, and the brightly blooming flowers gave their best warning, with unasked defense. The arrows that were shot toward the young man were deflected and absorbed by suddenly dropping vines; the flowers popped in front of approaching dark haired and wild eyes soldiers; and the grass told Briar of an enemy's approach.

However, the battle was short lived. Briar parried a sword stroke with his two daggers, briefly disengaging to throw another knife toward a quickly approaching enemy. He turned to the sword-bearing foe, keeping his defense up, but he wasn't prepared for his opponent to jump five feet in the air and kick him on the collarbone.

He fell back several feet, nearing unconsciousness from the sudden pain. Jungle creepers and grass flew his way, quickly trying to protect him from pain and detection. A soldier with long-haired raven feathers woven into his braids quickly approached with a sword upraised.

"No, Rifou," the sword wielding foe said. "The jungle has accepted this guest. He isn't one of our enemies. The general may like to hear word of this stranger."  
Nawat Crow looked on with interest at this bronze colored stranger – a skin tint strange enough to mark him as a non-Islander to anyone, not only a crow related to the wagering god Kyprioth. His flock-mates quickly bound the man with hemp and rope, finding no less than seven knives on the man. Nawat couldn't wait to let his Aly, or the ferociously calm and unexcitable general Ulasim, know about his newest conquest, though he thought first to let the nearest member of the Chain examine the youth. The way the jungles had moved around the newcomer could be something more suspicious than the crow-man could determine. Besides, the governor of Tongkang needed to be handled carefully, hopefully with crow fletched feathers, and Nawat had already notched an arrow to his bow.

* * *

Daja felt pleasantly comfortable. She heard no chatter from the apprentices living below her suite – nor were the fires smoking and ready for a day of work in the forge. It must be Watersday, she thought, the day of worship.

However, even knowing these comforts, she felt that she was laying on moss, under a tree about to lose its shade to sunshine. It was coming on noon, and she was far away from her forge, home, and family.

Daja sat up slowly, assessing all her options. She was not the kind of person to panic, over-assess, or make any decision without the full picture before her.

She sat underneath a large pine, evergreen, with a large rock formation behind her. Ferns nearby suggested colder climates – the sky above suggested rain within hours, though her position was defendable from all kinds of weather. Her magical reserves, she checked swiftly, were at half strength. Her connection to siblings and friends was terrifyingly abysmal, almost as bad as her later studies with Frostpine, before her family had reforged their magic. Her Trader's staff, one of the constant companions of her life, was nowhere near her. Her magic detected several types of minerals and cave formations to her west, but worked metal was not within her range.

She attempted to stand, but her legs gave halfway through the attempt. " _No matter,"_ she thought, " _more time to plan a course of action_."

That Daja knew she needed to prepare her next move was something of her second nature. Every forging needs reheating. Whether she knew what was happening or not, she planned as well as she could. Going from a daughter to outcast, then to sister to stranger, then re-embraced as sister and newly found _nisamohi_ , Daja protected her heart as much as she could and was used to planning for new trauma. She had found love with her Trader family brief, with her foster family magical and ever-lasting, and with a special Namornese lady… it was splendid and glorious, but all too quickly lost, and the experiences had taught her to be cautious.

Daja did not cry for the unexplained changes in her life. She pondered and she worried, but she steadily hiked through the evergreen forest towards the cliffs she sensed. There were several semi-precious jewels there, she could feel, but also stronger metals that may help her forge a weapon. Finding herself in unknown territory, she attempted stealth, but she still unaccountably felt nervous as squirrels, birds, and even deer watched her pass.

Finally cracking through the last of some rather untamed brush, she found a series of caverns with a small stream flowing through an inner cave. It was very cold to touch, with no magical residue she could detect, so Daja filled her stomach and pondered her next options.

The cave she found was uninhabited, as far as she could tell, though there were a short hunting knife and hatchet. There were old animal droppings of some kind, as well as traces of some type of opal dirt. More importantly to Daja, there was enough of a fire pit that could possibly heat enough to re-forge her newly found dagger or axe, as well as a stock-pile of fuel to start. Since Daja had not woken from this strange dream and with her magic still pulsing in her veins, she began to worry she was in actual danger.

She used the sharpest edges of axe and knife to sketch symbols into the other object. Feeling a strange foreboding that something was seriously wrong, she gently cut into her palm where bronze living metal stretched over her skin. Draping that over each object, and pressing the flexible metal in her symbols, she heated each object and pushed her magic into strength, durability, sharpness, and hope. None of these changes would last as long as they could, several years of durability, were she at full strength with her forge, magical oils, and the repetition of forging available; but knowing her own strength, she had a dagger to protect her and an axe to bring lumber and game for the time being.

She kept a sharp watch as well she could for the rest of the day. She felt more exhausted than she normally would, as she only had modified two objects with her power. On the other hand, she thought ruefully, I have no idea where I am – my day could just be starting.

This proved to be a practical thought as the next few hours continued; she maintained her fire to keep her warm that night, eating berries from a nearby blackberry bush. A dark furred wolf with patches of white fur watched as Daja's fire went down; even though he only saw in black and white, Daja confused him, as it seemed warmth and heat wrapped around her as the night went on. With a woof, Shortsnout decided to tell Brokefang of a new development in the eastern hills. Strangers who moved the air like this could pose a threat to the pack or to the valley they called home.

* * *

 _Tris_.

When she dreamed, she sometimes relived the minutiae. The harsh things she had heard or seen, before she was accepted as a sister in a family that used magical ties stronger than magical laws thought to be universal. Sometimes it was from her childhood, where she heard family members and classmates talk about her behind her back. Sometimes it was as a practicing mage, stronger by far than many she met, but banished behind their jealousy and unforgiving judgment. Worse than all of these, she sometimes dreamed that the winds talked to her.

In the dreams, it was something that made sense.

The winds would swirl around her, bringing skirts and petticoats to dance above her sensible boots. She was almost always standing upon a stone-skirted tower wall with storm clouds racing in from the west. In her vision, her eyes filled with far, far-off scenes: of Ragat and the temple community just now recovered from a magical disaster caused by a past ruling council; of the further reaches of Namorn, a country she and her siblings had just escaped from; and of the sea. Endless. Ever-lasting.

She would race further west, following the wind, hoping for glimpses and snippets of sound. Her magic gave her nothing. She saw nothing and heard nothing.  
But when she would return to her body, there would be voices. Nothing her power plucked away for her brain to hear. Yet she would hear it. The wind would slide over her nose, under her spectacles, and over her earlobes.

 _Trisana. It is coming for you.  
_  
She would always wake up trembling. This time, she would not wake in her own bed to the sound of Summersea's harbor waves; rather, the sound of glass scratching other glass, the war-cry of her beloved pet Chime, resonating through the air, would help her shake off her trembling and start a day far stranger than she could have imagined.

* * *

Sandry tried to remain calm, despite the fact that she was lightly bound to a swift horse in the middle of nowhere.

The group of dark-skinned soldiers that had found her spoke in a language she had never heard. When she attempted to interact with them, she saw that they recognized her language, but weren't fluent themselves. They had quickly bound her hands and feet in chains, despite her struggles, and placed her on this horse. She withheld from turning her powers against them – after all, she certainly wasn't going to survive in the middle of whatever desert she had woken up in. And whatever rest and food she could afford would help later, if they forced her hand.

Furthermore, Sandry could see that three of her companions were mages. They glittered with magic in her sight. She quickly looked through her own power, bringing a change of sight upon herself, to discover their talents. Their magic was odd to her; it was certainly a kind of academic magic, for it was contained within their bodies like other mages she had met – and they all carried items imbued for protection or strength of some kind, though she didn't recognize many of the symbols or charms.

Sandry reached inside herself again, for the hundredth time. She could feel her siblings: Daja was closest, to the north; Briar somewhere west; Tris was the furthest, stretching thin and taunt and, at times, feeling almost insubstantial. However, each time she quested down their ties, she was rocked back into her own body, as if a rubber band snapped. And each time, she reeled in her saddle. After the last attempt, she noticed two guards had moved to flank her more closely. The three mages had also repositioned closer to the young noble; and though Sandry knew mages couldn't feel the type of magic she shared with her siblings, she thought amusedly, " _Well, it seems I'm not the only one being cautious._ " Despite her flippant thought, she was mentally reviewing her situation.

 _I appear to be in a foreign land. My magic has been sapped considerably, possibly to the effect that my siblings are out of reach. I have been captured by soldiers and mages who appear not to speak the same language. My wealth and position are with Uncle, who will assuredly look for us all when he discovers whatever has happened; however, in the meantime, I must use my wits to protect myself from assassins, kidnappers, and anyone else intent on harm. How I will manage that, I have no idea._

By the time night fell, several hours later, Sandry was rocking in her saddle, having barely had enough strength to wrap the chains around her wrist around the saddle hook. The strangers pushed her to the side, setting up a temporary camp. One of the mages, a woman, based on her veiled face for desert travel, sat next to the noble. She gave her water from a goatskin bag, helping her lift with the chains. She also unbound one of the longer portions of Sandry's veil from under her braided hair. She gently draped it across her mouth and nose, leaving corn-flower blue eyes visible, and secured the free edge on the other side.


	4. Chapter 4

Briar was surprised to wake up to another day.

He had been carried from two different islands with a group of people that could turn into to glossy-feathered crows. They killed a fair amount of white-skinned people with each trip the ship made. He considered his escape for the hundredth time, hoping that he would be able to distract enough of them before a breakout could be discovered. Each ship trip brought him closer to bringing the boards of the vessel to life and each episode with strangers on the jungle coast made him anxious to ask for help from the poisonous ankle-trapping creepers in the area; however, the crew kept him under close display and observation.

Within moments, certain members of the crew could transform. Briar was unable to comprehend the concept. The magic his siblings and he commanded were unique, but an ability to shape shift was something completely alien to him. When looking at this group of the crew, Briar's magical sight often caught the strange sensation of having feathers just under the skin, but there was no glow of magic within their bodies.

The leader of the crew kept a close eye on Briar, but did not attempt to speak to him. The entire group had attempted at times to question the stranger, but Briar did not understand any of their language. Frankly, as far as he was concerned, he just needed to build up enough strength to escape the ship into the jungle, where the wildlife would keep him safe. If he could get access to lock picks or his daggers, all the better for him. However, the leader of the crew had been cautious and placed a magical slave color on him.

With Briar's hazel-green eyes turned to the sea inside one of the prisoner cages, brought specifically on board for the stranger, Nawat Crow watched from the crow's nest. The high vantage was doubly named on his ship, for he and his flock mates used it as a central location. Nawat kept more attention on this prisoner than he anticipated – he was not used to taking prisoners at all, as most of the crows and human soldiers he commanded killed any luarin enemies in their path. But Nawat was keen to let the rebellion leaders know what a strange thing he had found; he was more anxious to show Aly of the dancing hands what a strange plant/human he discovered. That Aly would know what to do about this mysterious stranger, Nawat was certain.

As a crow, Nawat was only a few years old and his experience as a human man was just as short. But he had never seen plants, particularly the deadly and exotic plants of highland Kyprian jungles, act the way it had around the young man. When they had initially captured him, Nawat's entire crew was engaged in settling a minor revolt on Tongkang, with a partial conclusion for Nawat to kill the governor of that isle. In addition, a powerful old raka mage was employed on a cove of the other side of the island who could contact the Chain, a group of mages employed in setting off revolution throughout all of the Copper Isles.

This mage was cautious, hearing what Nawat described from the first encounter, and sent messages through several others to eventually reach their leaders in Rajmuat. A heavy iron collar was fixed around the unconscious youth with spells to keep him from fleeing. The mage also added every spell she knew for binding magical power, though she could not sense much from the boy at all; she did not possess the Sight as well as the Gift. His power, if he possessed it, was unlike any raka or luarin magic she had encountered in forty years of working with the Chain.

Briar had spent many days cooped up in a cage in the past, but he certainly wasn't happy about repeating the experience. Several things kept him cautious. The attacks he had seen being led against some of the native white-skinned citizens showed the entire crew to be viciously efficient warriors. The magicks within the collar were partially full of binding spells that activated minutely when he brought his own magic into play or tried to push it past his skin; he was positive he would be able to overwhelm those spells when in the jungle, with the natural strength of other vibrant plants to help him, but a mage battle with those spells laying a thin film over his power could cause a chance between his own life or death. Lastly, with that layer over his body and magic, he was not even sure if he could contact his siblings. He had attempted to reach Daja briefly the first day he was conscious on the boat, but the distance connecting them was too far – the magic in the collar was a heavy weight on his search as well, dragging on his strength. He awoke from meditation sweating; the flowers on his hand containing plant scars and a magical wound connecting his sisters were blooming bruise-colored leaves and blood-red petals.

With a sigh and sudden aches in the scars of his palm, he rolled over to try and nap, wondering if he would live through the next night. The scars of his palm were certainly forewarning, because a violent winter storm was unexpectedly and untimely heading towards the snuggest harbor in the Isles, their capitol Rajmuat, while its new young king Dunevon was sailing his new, not-so-well-built flagship.

One day later, while the crew attempted to land their own slightly battered ship on the coast of Kypriang Isle, Nawat Crow and his top two soldiers were learning of a important development with the Chain mage on board.

"The nestlings have been killed," Nawat asked in a monotone voice.

The Chain mage, Gergundou, was a young raka mage from Malubesang whose family served the cause. She was not the most powerful mage, which explained why she had been sent with the relatively new crew that Nawat had been approved by the general, but she could far-speak and report for the rebellion. In addition, she had some light battle magic and healing skills, enough to serve the crew as a multi-purpose mage.

"Yes," she told her captain. "The Chain reports that a winter storm unexpectedly hit Rajmuat's harbor two days ago, when another fierce storm interrupted our travel from Lombyn to Kypriang. The storm itself ranged all the way down the inner sea, hitting most of the eastern coasts of Kypriang, Imahyn, and Malubesang; however, the damage was the fiercest in the Kypriang sea around the capitol harbors. The flagship for the new king was sailing for the first time. The king is dead, along with several other noble youths, sailors, and numerous raka fishermen among the entire sea."

Nawat received the report and left the ship cabin at a brisk trot. Two warriors, a crow-cousin Rifou and human warrior Gilma, followed quickly. Gergundou returned to her crystal, to pass more reports to the Chain mages in the outer Isles.

Nawat gathered his flock quickly, with messages for some of the humans he commanded to gather as soon as possible. His thoughts were turned to Aly Bright Eyes, first and foremost, and the entire Balitang household. Elsren, the young lord of the family, was certainly on board that ship with the young king. Aly protected them all. If anything happened to the boy, she, and the entire family, would need his help.

He issued quick orders. He and five others, for the sake of speed, would change into crow form and fly directly over Kypriang Isle to the capitol. The rest of the crows would serve as lookouts and guards for their human warriors, helping until they could receive further orders. In the meantime, they were to approach to the capitol as closely as possible without being detected. With a side glance at the captive, Nawat thought to put this boy into Ochobu's capable hands while he could find Aly and find out what truly happened; the cranky raka mage resided in Rajmuat with the other rebellion leaders and was the most powerful link of the Chain. She would understand better than any other mage whether the boy was a god, immortal, or threat to the rebellion. Nawat went to return to Gergundou to give a quick update of his new instructions before swiftly joining his fellow crows for the frantic flight south.

And while Briar did not understand Kyprish and was busy rubbing a large bruise forming from hitting his head against his cage during the violent sea storm, he did understand issued orders and the movement of soldiers departing. He decided he was going to get off this ship, one way or another, as soon as the ship captain who could jump six feet into the air departed.

Several leagues across the sea, Baron George Cooper of Pirate's Swoop decoded several messages sent throughout the realm, frowning at the many reports. All of the correspondences showed new problems: unrest in the southern Bahzir tribes with new raiding bandits, northern sweeps against dimwitted Scranrns who were convinced the war was not over, requests of the most recent information from his Yamani agents, and dozens of reports, describing the most acute mages in the realm bothered by new magical frequencies.

With a groan, George began to rub both of his temples, sweeping his fingers rakishly through his hair. The sun-tanned rogue was in his fifties, with wickedly humorous green eyes, a large nose that had been broken several times, and a crooked grin. You would not be able to tell by looking at the casually dressed noble that he carried two sets of lock picks, daggers on almost every limb and major pocket, and was happily married to the prickly-tempered, purple eyed Lioness of Tortall.

Nor would you know that the man was lieutenant to the spies of Tortall, serving his father-in-law Myles of Olau as their defender and enforcer in the international world of espionage. The Whisper Man was his code name; he had trained his daughter Alianne in every aspect of the spy world, though he hadn't realized she would want to follow so closely in his footsteps. Despite her rather fantastic knowledge of the world, uniquely strong power of Sight, and winning way of making friends, George was worried for her. His knowledge of the happenings in the Copper Isles, where his daughter was likely helping to start a revolution, was slim – his normal agents were having problems getting information over the sea. George had originally thought he had an ace up the sleeve, because one of his favorite agents Tkaa had left him a gift before journeying to the Isles.

 _Several months earlier, when Tkaa dropped a gelatin bundle of shadows on George's desk mere days after George had returned to Tortall, having finally found Aly and discovered the Trickster's plan for his daughter, George was not in the best of moods. The knowledge that his only girl was making wagers with a god in enemy country, while his wife fought for their own home in the Scanran north, had brought the normally cheery rouge into a fit of ill humor._

 _"Tkaa," he asked with his normal, city-slick drawl, "why are shadows falling all over my paperwork?"_

 _The immortal basilisk was engaged with pulling more and more shadows from his belly pouch. George was fascinated to see that everything was breaking apart into fist sized portions. With an eerie pause of movement, over sixty blobs rocked back and popped little heads out of their body, looking like freestanding and oxygen breathing tadpoles._

 _Tkaa lifted his tail from underneath several of the creatures, while one of the shadows grew tentacles to hang onto the end, squealing with pleasure. When Tkaa had settled the tail over his arm and the blob on his shoulder, he turned to George._

 _"Verilidaine sends her regards, sir, though she apologizes she cannot come in person," Tkaa said, bowing to his temporary supervisor, "as her new daughter still keeps her occupied. She asks a boon in exchange for a gift that I have brought you." Despite his immortality and powerful magic, Tkaa was pleased in his status as messenger and spy for Tortall. He often told the king and George that the amount of enjoyment he received from working in a mortal way made him feel young._

 _George wanted to sigh, but several of the blobs had decided to start climbing over the spymaster. Their cool, smooth texture helped George keep his calm in the hot stone tower where Pirate Swoop housed his office._

 _"Please, let me hear of the young lass's request; if it's cookies you'sters want," he told the darkings beginning to crawl into his pockets, "there's a plate in that cabinet," he gestured with a nod. A dozen of the things swooped through the key hole and opened the latch, raising George's eyebrow; with that done, the cookies began to disappear._

 _"Daine would like me to introduce you to darkings, the magical creatures she told their Majesties about just near the end to the Immortals War. Many of their comrades have remained in the Divine Realm and Dragon Realms, but this younger generation has asked to explore the mortal realms. Their leader, Goldstreak, sent them through to Daine. She thought to ask you to train them in your work in the following weeks, particularly since the news you brought from the Copper Isles has some drastic news for the following spring. If your daughter and her goddaughter Aly could be benefited by a gift, she asked me to accompany them to the Isles when the new young king is crowned and our Majesties send Tortallan gifts."_

 _George slowly grinned and looked at the curious group of creatures. "Well, you lil' nasties, let us teach you about spies, lies, and mean things that fly. I imagine they like to pick you up in the air like worms, eh?"_

 _The darking busy exploring his chest pocket, holding a flattened piece of leather round it like a scarf, poked its head into George ear. "Dragons the worst at that," it said matter-of-factly._

Months later, with George looking at so many reports throughout Tortall and still unconsciously wriggling a loose tooth about Aly, little Leather rolled under his office door and into his chest pocket. "Worried," it piped out to George.

George nodded. "Seems there's a lot to do and more I haven't a clue about. My lass is in the capitol, hoping the king can let her travel the coast, though she knows she'd be so sick she dropped. And she ain't needed watch the coast – our daughter will be fine, one way or another. I'm fair more worried about whatever magic has everyone swatting their tails at horseflies."

"I have news," the little darking responded.

George started, almost flattening the creature in his vest pocket. Reaching inside, with the creature softly keening, the baron brought his palm open and let the creature flex.

"You have news for me," the baron asked, bringing the darking to his cheek and ear.

"Yes," Leather responded. It lightly coughed twice, a trick it learned from George's manservant, and began. "Before we came to the mortal realm, Goldstreak and dragons talk and talk and talk. Talk talk talk. They always discuss morals and ethics and magic and other things. But all darkings can know and tell what others learn. Since we came to learn from you, we learn other morals about spies and tricks. You impress on us how amazing we are," it said, swelling a bit with pride, "but help us learn how to keep our secrets. We can know what other darkings know."

"But we try to keep separate," it explained. "Not right, for mortals to know what dragons speak of. Or how newts in Ekallatum keep their nest. Or secrets of rebellion miles and miles away. Or how young girls in Tusaine discouraged to know math." George blinked with the onslaught of images.

"But something happened, here and upper realms," Leather told him. "Goldstreak tell, send to all darkings. Magic opened portals throughout the realms. Powerful things landing. One in Divine Realms. One in the Copper Isles. One in Tortall. And another down south. The portals resonate. Goldstreak say Dragon Realms to reseal their realm to ignore magical aura. Some of Great Gods blast my friends, yelling about spies and tricksters. Other gods flee and animal gods retreat to homes. The pretty Green Lady," Leather continued, batting at George's earlobe with a stretched tentacle, "worries about Daine and the baby. Blackblob sits in her apron pocket, a happy prisoner with our first friend's mother."

George had been taking furtive notes, ignoring his little companion's battering of his ear, condensing all the reports into the strongest coded message he knew. "Is there more, little Leather?" he asked, re-dipping his quill into an inkpot, frowning when the darking shook its tiny head. "Should not have told so much," it said quietly, "not right for everyone to know everything we know. Worried about little girls, Aly and Daine," it said, looking aside at the spymaster. "Strong magic appears everywhere darkings know a friend is: Goldstreak, Blackblob, Trick and others. Portals stay open and flying immortals come and go. Dangerous," it said, shaking the leather around it. "Dangerous."


	5. Chapter 5

Several days of travel later, Sandry was almost at the end of her patience. She had managed to mime a sowing needle and thread to her captives, though she had nothing to mend. She used most of the thread in embroidered nonsense, keeping her mind alert. At an imperial way station, Sandry was dressed well by the mage woman who had attended her thus far, not sure what was happening. She was escorted to a well-decorated room. An older black man, who was the captain in charge of the station, was a well known translator. He was also known for claiming foreigners as slaves, teaching them the local languages for a higher resale value. He began asking her questions in a language she actually understood, after trying several foreign to her.

"My name is Captain Teera," he told her, looking over her exposed hands and bright blue eyes. "I am the lowly captain of this way station, serving his Imperial Majesty and the realm of Carthak. I hail from the village of Turbanask to the south. What is your name?"

"My name is Sandrilene," she replied, eyes flickering up and down quickly, hoping to keep her wits about her. "I am known as Sandry."

The captain smiled, remarking that her dialect was different from the Common language he had learned in his young travelling days. "Are you from Tortall?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," the pretty lady in maroon clothing replied. "I believe I'm from a land called Emelan. I have an uncle named Vedris, two sisters, and a brother. Have you heard of such a place?"

The investigator nodded negatively. "I apologize, my dear, but I have never heard of such a place. But how have you come to Carthak? The guards claim you were crumpled at the bottom of a sand dune, some forty miles outside of the nearest town. They say," he remarked with questing eyes over her well-pressed clothing, "you stood like an imperious goddess, loose hair and eyes sparking like blue lightning."

"I do not know how I came to this place. I have never even heard of this country. But it is of no matter. I need to seek passage to the north. My siblings await me there. I simply must get to them as soon as possible."

"I would love to help, beautiful maiden," he remarked unctuously and, with a quick shake of the head, pressed his hand against hers, "but you were brought here by soldiers employed by the Emperor of Carthak. You are currently enjoying his hospitable invitation to the University of Carthak."

The sleeves of her gown began to tremble and the lace edges itched to bind this stranger, who touched her hand without permission, into a tight bundle. With a slight cough, hidden behind the full faced veil that the women servants had insisted on applying to her gown and her hair, Sandry drew her hand away and replied. "I'm terribly appreciated to this Emperor, but I –"

"You should be," the merchant and translator responded. "There is some kind of magical onslaught occurring, causing desert storms in oases and winter storms above our Inland Sea; strong winds blow consistently through, causing more dust cyclones than anyone has seen in decades. Besides, the university you are being taken to is also to the north, near the new palace in Carthak City. You'll be able to converse more with other many other persons while you are there, for one thing. We rarely speak Common, this far south, though all the academics and nobles keep it a bit brushed up."

Seeing that two soldiers had returned to the room, Sandry sighed and stood before the merchant did. "Do I have the pleasure of your company going to the north? I am afraid I had very little to learn from my escorts on the way here."

The merchant, despite greedily wishing he could enslave this blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty, graciously responded, halfway convinced she was a goddess in disguise. "My lady, I fear not. I will be escorting a merchant caravan heading to the far south and my obligations take me there. You will find more to entertain you in the university, I am sure," he told her, "though I doubt you will find anyone more adoring or grateful for your company than I would be."

Seeing the man look her over, Sandry was suddenly glad of the modest clothing and veils that the women had given her. She was not accustomed to men openly ogling her as if she were a doll for their use or, worse, a slave. And yet, she could not reveal her power, heritage, or true opinions on a lecherous merchant – her status here was clearly nonexistent, if this talkative captain had never heard of Uncle or Emelan. As for her power, her inability to contact her siblings continued to irk her. She frequently rewove the patterns on the face veil they had given her in the next few days of travel, providing sweet air for herself and honeyed speech for their ears. The mages traveling with her did not even see the small stitches she added in as their travel continued; and though she spoke a completely foreign language to them, soldiers and mages alike provided her extra water rations and food on their perilous trek north.

* * *

Daja awoke in her cave, warm and relaxed again at her solitude, though it was mixed with a fair bit of apprehension that she was still completely in the dark about her present circumstances. Gathering up her axe and knife, she went to the inner cave, took some substantial gulps of cold water, and washed her hands and face. She briskly left the cave into the cover of the woods.

While quietly making a stockpile of lumber for a new fire, she munched on blackberries growing throughout the area. She was careful to take a close look at each bush beforehand; Briar was always making practical jokes about certain wild berries being dangerously poisonous and, though she wasn't always sure whether her tricky-brother was telling the truth, it never hurt to be cautious.

It was some of this cautiousness that helped saved Daja's life, because when she heard the scrape of movement in the trees above her and looked up, she yelled and jumped back several feet, narrowly avoiding a large, dark shape about to land on her.

Landing almost seven feet away and scrambling to her feet, Daja stared with her mouth open at the furry creature standing in front of her. It was at least one foot taller than her and vaguely humanoid; its face was a brown skinned man with dark hair – its grin was sharp-toothed and menacing; the rest of it body was shaped like a gigantic spider, with fuzzy black fur across its abdomen and long eight legs.

"It must be my lucky day," the man spider told Daja, continuing to shock her with its ability to speak, "I found my favorite type of breakfast and there's no one around to help me eat it." It rose up his front four legs and a small hole based on his belly began to bulge. Daja, scared and just realizing what was happening, dove behind a tree just as a thick grey web shot out to splatter her previous location. She began weaving through the trees back toward her cave, hearing the creature curse. She was several yards away as the creature lifted up a leg to disconnect his web and began to jump into the trees, using the leafy branches to follow the girl.

As she was about to leave the forest into the open ground leading up to the cave, Daja was almost at a loss of what to do. She could hear the creature following above her, which dictated she needed to leave the forest – it would be able to drop down on her at any moment. The open ground in front of her poised a new problem, giving the thing time and range to wrap her up silly in a web. And if she happened to reach the cave, it merely had to follow her in and she'd be trapped. She hadn't explored much past the water in the cave, but if it were a dead end, she would be dead.

But the cave was her best bet. If she could make it, she could try to escape from the inside. There was also tinder to build a fire, possibly barricade the entrance, and the tighter quarters may give her an advantage to get in closer with her knife or axe. She began to run at top speed and left the cover of the woods, just as the beast caught up to her from above.

She was three quarters of the way to the cave when she heard the creature scream; she chanced to look back and saw something just as disturbing as her morning had been.

The spider was surrounded by a pack of fourteen wolves. Each time the creature attempted to swipe at the predators, several from behind it would leap to bite and scratch at the base of the back legs. One of the smallest managed to get its entire muzzle around the base and latch on. Hanging underneath and swinging, it managed to chomp the entire way through and disconnect the leg entirely.

Screaming again, the spider fell back on its remaining legs, raising its belly to throw out a web. The wolves in front of the spinneret scattered, leaving the spider a path toward escape. He was facing directly toward Daja.

Daja continued her sprint towards the cave, reaching deep inside her body to gather her power. She reached the pile of lumber she had piled by the cave and quickly started to strike her axe on the rocks nearby. At the first sign of sparks hitting her lumber, she thrust the heat inside herself onto her makeshift pit, throwing it into glorious life. Flames shot up and she turned, crouched low on the ground as the spider scurried towards her. Seven of the wolves followed, snarling and flanking the beast.

Daja didn't have time to weave a wall of fire or a net to trap the beast, like she had controlled fires in the past, but as she was pressed for time and more than a bit panicked, she called up a ribbon of flame. Gently, she folded it as she might a hand towel that she and her siblings used to practice striking with. Each fold brought it tighter and taunt with heat, until she had a makeshift whip of flames. By the time the spider was close enough to use his spinner and web in her direction, she leaped to her feet and struck out with the flame whip, slapping the creature across his jagged teeth and upper lip.

Two of the wolves jumped forward with the distraction, managing to pluck two more legs from the spider's sides. Barely tottering on its five remaining legs, Daja stepped forward again to whip at the creature. Coming from the side, she sent the tip towards its eyes; as it struck, she summoned the edges to wrap around the thing's throat and left it there.

As it began to smoke and burn, the creature was screaming and flailing. The wolves around it dodged and scattered as it began to panic and thrash around. Its helpless screaming terrified Daja anew and she again called the heat of the earth into her body, setting the creature much more thoroughly ablaze. It eventually stopped screaming when its face was fully burned out of recognition; its legs continued to twitch and move, as if it were merely an insect the housekeeper struck with a broomstick.

Daja ran back to her fire, grabbing a burning branch to hold in front of her as she dry heaved the water and berries of the morning out of her stomach. Throat burning and eyes streaming, she saw the majority of the wolves were slowly approaching her, forming a semi-circle to keep her pressed near the open cave. She was pulling another rope of fire in front of her when the wolves stopped several yards away and sat down; several began to scratch with their back legs. There were four other wolves racing away towards the woods and Daja heard the sound of a hunter's horn blaring. It was getting closer.

She felt lucky. Her muscles felt loose and wobbly. She hadn't controlled fire that directly since Ben had started setting fires in Namorn. The thought of those times made her shake, though she was already shaking from her strange morning. _Who meets an eight foot spider outside of nightmares?_ she thought.

Within moments, the wolves raced back out of the woods, followed by a group of men dressed in brown and green jerkins – a hunting party. There was also a young lady, wearing archer's braces and a dark green hunting skirt, and her guardian, a hulking knight dressed in a dark blue tunic over armor. Their party approached swiftly and fell into spaces between the wolves. Daja was now truly well surrounded.

The lady was first to prompt her horse, taking several steps forward. She stopped and raised her head a fraction of an inch. Daja's lip twitched to a small smile – Sandry did just the same thing when encountering a problem; the young girl was certainly nobility.

"Good afternoon," she said politely. "My name is Maura of Dunlath. May I ask what you are doing in the woods of my fief?"


	6. Chapter 6

Briar waited until the next day's nightfall. Without the captain of the ship keeping constant vigilance on him, he was able to do serious planning. He had managed, and he wasn't sure if it were luck or skill that helped him, to grab a dagger from one of the soldier earlier that day without detection. While deep within his meditation, he was able to draw on the power of the jungle nearby; its strength helped him overwhelm the spells around his collar, letting him bring growth to a nearby ship railing. When the cracking of new growth had split part of his metal cage apart, he was able to slip outside. He crouched nearby, waiting to hear any reactions on the ship.

The crows on top of the tower worried him the most. He knew they had acute hearing, but was hoping the evening's rest had lulled them into a state of confusion. He also worried about the mage on board, simply because he was sure the collar spells he bore were linked to her. Nonetheless, he was under a mile to shore and was determined to reach the jungle. As he was helping himself over the rail to jump into the deeper side of the sea, the entire world began to roar and shake; a blinding white light covered everything as if the world screamed.

By the time the world stopped, Briar was flat on his back with his hands over his ears; the entire crew was wide awake, with the crow warriors all around, unsheathed swords pointed at his body. The young raka mage was attempting sleep spells on him, but wide-eyed Briar refused to accept the magic. Sleep spells made him angry; his magic overwhelmed the collar for a time, bringing boards and seaweed to active life. The crows eventually had to manually carry the almost comatose boy back to his cage, while others were busy fighting worked wood that had grown proactively, attempting to destroy Gergundou and sailors lifted oars to deal with bogged seaweed.

* * *

Several miles away, in the meeting room of the Balitang Household, where the leaders of the far-flung rebellion attempted to bring a true raka queen back to the throne of the Copper Isles, the god Kyprioth appeared to his followers.

"This is where I leave you all," the god said, with an apprehensive look at the ceiling. "My brother and sister have returned much sooner than I would have wished. I believe there is some kind of emergency occurring in the Divine Realms, for they were so fast in pursuit of the thief I put on their shields that they actually discovered _me._ "

He kissed Aly Homewood, the daughter of the Lioness and Baron of Pirate's Swoop, on the cheek. "Good luck. Victories, remember!"

* * *

Alanna often came into the Coronation Room to think.

It was a private room. It only had one purpose, like the knighthood's Chamber of the Ordeal; it served to bless and ordain the rulers of Tortall. It was set here early in the history of the kingdom. It helped countless kings maintain the land and authorize their nobility.

It was also the pivotal site for some of the most iconic moments in her past. She met the Goddess here for the second time, in the days before Jonathan's coronation. The day itself was one of her more harrowing experiences as well: she presented the Dominion Jewel here, left this room to see friends and family die, made a journey on to kill others, and came back to this room to find others who died. This room was a passive nostalgia and an active reminder of her duty.

The ember on her neck pulsed warmly. It had not stopped beating since whatever magical occurrence took place in the last few weeks. Its presence kept her cautious and wary – if it was pulsating now, when it could not help her find her daughter last year, there must be some kind of problem that she could deal with. Alanna hated not taking action: she was the Lioness, previously of Trebon, currently of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, the King's Champion, the Goddess's Chosen. Alanna was turning to leave the Room of Thrones when she sneezed five times in quick succession.

With a soundless explosion and a light flash bright as lightning, a figure appeared in the lower chamber of the room. Standing next to the Throne, a seven-foot tall figure stood. She was beautiful in an icy, untouchable kind of way. Her dark hair and emerald green eyes were made vibrant next to her ivory skin. She looked up towards the balcony seats where Alanna sat.

"My daughter," she whispered, but its sound sent Alanna shivering. It was as if packs of dogs and trumpets sought to audibly move her spirit from her body. She held her hands over her ears and doubled over in pain. But the Goddess continued.

"Daughter, I am distraught. I will try to make his encounter brief, for I see my voice causes you pain. It does give me the slightest of pleasure, for," and here she briefly left off, giving some needed respite to the warrior, "I have found displeasure in your service to me."

This caused Alanna's head to shoot up. With the ember stone burning on her neck and her own temper aroused, the Lioness jumped over the balcony ledge to grip a column to the room floor. Sliding down like a monkey, she leapt to the ground and rolled towards the throne. She kneeled several yards away from the Goddess, who watched stoically.

"Great Lady, I have been a faithful servant to you always. What causes have you for disappointment?"

The Goddess laughed, but it was tinged with cruelty and bitterness. Alana shuddered to be so close to her patron because of it.

"There is much occurring throughout the realms at the moment. In my investigations to see what manner of mischief was causing it, I happened to find one of my siblings planning a revolution against me and my lord Mithros." Her speaking his name caused a booming throughout the room. "This warfare takes most of my energy. In fact," she threw her arm wide and the room lit up again, "this is a small portion of my presence. I am engaged elsewhere in battle. But I would speak to you," she added with a sniff, "because your husband and daughter have aided the Trickster in his rebellion against me."

Alanna looked up from her kneeling submission. "George and Aly?" she asked. "They are spies and jokesters, milady. How could they not follow the Crooked God? Particularly when he has shown himself to them; it is as improbable as my ignoring my devotion toward you!"

"And yet," the Goddess spoke, "no prayers from you alerted me that warfare would break out and that my reign would be questioned?! The Copper Isles are mine now!"

Alanna trembled. "And where were my prayers when Aly first went missing, Great Mother," she said with the smallest tinge of mock in her voice.

The Goddess's form blazed for several moments, but began to fade. She laughed softly, and most of the overwhelming weight that had been present in the room disappeared. She suddenly stood next to Alanna, holding a wriggling ball of light in her palm.

"This explains it," the Goddess told her; her voice and presence no longer made Alanna tremble in fear. "This little imp has been keeping a watch on you and catching your supplications to me. He has four hundred and twenty two prayers."

Alanna gripped the hilt of her sword and began to draw it, but the Goddess tsk'ed her. "No need, daughter, it is of no further concern." Closing her fist tightly over the creature, it was dissolved into sparks of light.

With a side glance at Alanna, the Goddess continued. "Well, this changes things. I had planned on sending you through the Sea of Sands to atone for your family's transgressions against me. The winds would scour your mortal body into nothingness without divine favor; however with my favor, you would be stronger than ever before, like heroes of the past. Yet, my temper has abated, seeing that you have been followed by an interloper."

Alanna slowly stood, finding herself by a much less intimating figure than before. "I still wish to serve you, Great Lady, and I apologize that you must engage in warfare. My family," she added ferociously, "is following the path that nature has set for them. I do not and will not apologize for that."

The Goddess shook her head. "No helping it now, as I am already engaged in battle. But I must now tax you with a quest." Her voice began to echo around the room, as if she were present everywhere at once.

 _"In two days time, you will be sent to the Divine Realms. Magical portals have been opened throughout the lands, allowing immortals and other personage easy access for travel. Several anomalies have been transported as well. I require you to hunt them down and eliminate any of the problems. Anyone you wish to accompany you must be with you at my temple in the Temple District in two days time. Prepare for anything, as the Divine Realms are in chaos. Whatever caused these portals to open has frightened many gods, and three of the Great Gods, myself included, are currently staking claims in the Copper Isles. Be swift and do not fail me."_

She briefly reached out to touch the ember stone at Alanna's throat, making it burn hotter than ever. She then gently pulled the Lioness closer and kissed her forehead, feeling like a branding sear. "Goddess bless," she whispered, disappearing suddenly. Alanna fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, Daine the Wildmage was having a dream as remarkable as she had when she traveled through the Divine Realms. Seeing this clarity, she was sure that Gainel the Dream King was paying her a visit.

In the vision, she was sitting at her parent's table in the Divine Realms, where the water was fresher than mountain streams and foods were tasted from true essence, not the shadow of things. Her mother, blond-haired and homely, sat with a worried frown; she rested her head against Daine's father, the hunt-god Weiryn, whose antlered crown rose several feet above Sarra. He was joined by the Dream King himself and Daine's past protector the Badger, the male-god of badgers in all the mortal realms.

"This makes no sense," the male badger grumbled. "The walls between realms continue to scream here and there; no one can discover why. And even when we find the portals, magic we've never encountered keeps it all shifting."

"Indeed," Weiryn's deep voice rose from across the table, "its power can repel many of the People gods without them even getting close. When it briefly opened above the cottage, Sarra and I approached. We were able to withstand it, but nothing we could do made the slightest difference."

 _My creatures have no effect against them either,_ the Dream King announced. _They are not affected in the slightest, a circumstance which worries me that another attack from Chaos is behind all of this._

Even in her dream, Daine shuddered and could see her parents wince from the suggestion. Uusoae, the Queen of Chaos, had been banished by the great powers of the cosmos the in the years prior, when her involvement in the mortal Immortals Wars was revealed. However, even the suggestion that the terrifying goddess would be able to break her cage and cause more suffering was a tender subject.

"I am not convinced," the badger briskly responded, "that it is quite that bad. We would recognize the power of Chaos, particularly since the Great Gods battled with her so recently. However, with this strange new magic, and the skies flashing with warfare," and here, Daine noticed for the first time the dream was shifting with strange lights pulsing from the skies of the Divine Realm, "I think we should expect something different."

"I worry," the Green Lady responded quietly, "particularly because we gods and mortals alike need recuperation. Wars on every end have tired us and we need a new springtime to bring us strength."

Daine's dream took on a strange turn and she felt her baby Rikash kicking frantically. Still deep in her sleep, she didn't feel her water break as she was intensely listening to her parents' theories of problems. However, with the sudden rush to her body, Sarra suddenly looked straight at Daine, as if seeing her for the first time. "Daine, _wake up!_ " she shouted. " _Numair, wherever you are, she needs you!"_

Numair, sleepily setting up his final divination spells atop of Balor's Needle, heard this cry float across the wind. Blinking suddenly in the dawn light, Numair painstakingly shrunk into a giant raven shape; he, a large group of sparrows, and other assortments of birds circled down the tower, flying over to the nobilities' quarters, landing upon the balcony belonging to the mage and his weeping, sleeping wife.


	7. Chapter 7

Tris awoke to periwinkle blue skies of Emelan that she had never seen before, which made sense, as she was not currently in Emelan, nor did she customarily wake up to views of the sky. She was in a ruined castle she had never been in before, lying on packed dirt. The walls were very old mismatched squares of stone, handmade and baked in wooden pyres. The ceiling was built open, revealing a flashing sky. Tris turned over to her side, trying to ignore this persistent dream.

The harsh cries of Chime kept her awake, though she was wearier than she could remember in the last year; the last time she felt this battered, she was recovering from an unexpected trip down a stairwell caused by a hidden curse. Whatever nightmare she was having, she needed to wake up and drain some magic from her braids to feel lively.

By the time she arrived outside of the ruins, having shaken off her skirts and petticoats, and was more than willing to berate Chime, she noticed she was out of place.

Large horses stood near her. But they were all steel grey and, Tris was amazed to admit, had horns upon their heads, like mythical unicorns; however, foam dripped from their snouts and their eyes glowed red. She blinked twice before they began to charge. Chime screeched again, shooting sharp spike needles towards the creatures.

Tris, despite her academic curiosity, followed Chime's lead. She untied the thin braids around her temples to collect some lightning and to send it toward the galloping creatures. Hitting the leading horse's horn directly several times, it reared, whinnied, and began to retreat. The others eventually followed suit, Chime berating their ears and bodies, while Tris singed their tails with the short shock-lighting braids.

"Well," Tris said to her glass companion, as her day began anew, "this is an interesting morning." The sun in the sky flared with brilliance, rays reaching longer than ever; waves of light clustered around the still present moon in the dawn sky. Flickers of light danced throughout the cosmos. Tris made a rather puzzled journey to the corner of the ruins, intent on the winds around her and undoing some rather significant braids, as gods near the First Palace kept close eyes on the mortal who had happened into their realm.

* * *

Berenene was not prone to feeling guilt or regret. It was partly a point of contention for her; they were just emotions she tried to avoid. She had done several things throughout her reign that would be difficult for many to process, but the need of her empire crushed personal feeling.

Had older noble families had difficulty with her rulings and way of holding court? Yes, but between marriage alliances, treaties, gifts, bribes, and a bit of obtrusive flirting with older sons, Berenene convinced the primary nobles of Dancruan to her side.

Had she not united the entire eastern and western shore with her power? Yes, her father had made progress, but had not she gathered the entire Haimtech tradition to her side? Their outdated marriage customs aside, Berenene incorporated the old empire fully while keeping her power succinct and guarded. And the Yanging Emperor, to the east, could sink his troops against her far-flung army and the empire could withstand the attempt.

However, she had been pressed with a few guilty and regretful emotions following her cousin's escape from Namorn; the Empress had done the best she could to entice and entrap Sandrilene and her step-family, but had fallen a bit flat.

Regret panged her when she thought of the gardens she could have created with Briar's help – she felt a pang in her heart when she considered the young man's furious eyes when his sister had been kidnapped in the palace. After Finn had captured Sandry and she had been rescued from part of the under-palace, Briar had called the action equal to rape; he rebuked the Empress for her lack of understanding, as no one, man or woman, could be equal to such aggression. Guilt also flooded her when she thought of her last interaction with Sandry herself, whose corn-flower blue eyes rebuked her control over her retainers, letting them prey on another noble. Over time, each interaction became easier for the Empress to bear, though sometimes the empress would shudder for no reason that her courtiers could see, feeling raw emotion without provocation.

This prompted the bitter Empress to eventually listen to the voices in her head, voices very different than those of madmen, she told herself. She was able to convince herself she truly did hear the voices of gods, whose orders happened to coincide nicely with thoughts of vengeance, pushing aside her pesky feelings of guilt and regret. She called Varice Kinsford of Carthak, her newly employed chief chef and hostess to her side, with her chief mage, Isabel Ladyhammer in attendance. Her first conversation was the earliest prompting to wrenching worlds apart.

"Yes, your Imperial Highness," Varice would answer. "The university which with I studied had access to magical walls separating the realms of the gods and mankind. The emperor at the time used breaks in the barriers to his own end, causing the gods to turn from him." Even after the fact, Varice spilled a few tears at the memory. "He was defeated by the gods and magic, turning his fate toward long-term warfare with our northern enemies. I began my own journey the night of his downfall, spending months on end to reach your shores, though I knew naught where I might land."

Berenene liked Varice, as she seemed to have a spinal cord, sense of direction, and an amazing way composing intricate sugar pastries; she considered it prudent, however, to keep Isabel on hand whenever they interacted. Varice, like the empire's old cook Olennika Potcracker, would have very direct access to the Empress through the food she would serve. She thought it safe to hear her story and her magic under multiple perspectives. Furthermore, knowing the girl arrived by sea, she wanted to know her origins.

"And you know these spells?" Berenene asked. "Spells to open the walls between realms, you know them? And your kingdom let you sail?"

Varice blushed but answered, moving her sky-blue veil away from her blond hair. "Your Imperial Majesty, my kingdom was in turmoil; I, myself, was confronted by a wooly mammoth come to life after hundreds of years; and countless lovers and friends were killed." She shook her head vigorously. "Though I despise my Gift for its call for learning and action, I love keeping a house and making people happy. I, however, was strong enough for Orzone to have me learn the spells he used. Barriers can be broken with enough strength; and even with my strength alone, sailboats can seem to cross uncontested territory. But I sought solace with you," she exclaimed, with a curtsy so low that she appeared actually to kneel, "so that I may do what I love without the fear of foreign giants, for sugar can conquer the tallest and deadliest of foes."

So when her council of Lords decided to revoke the kidnapping law of women in the empire, she put on her brave Empress face and ordered Varice, Isha, and Quen to rip the world apart. And truly, the law would likely aid her later in life as well, concerning the ruling of the kingdom and her daughters. She could rest assured that new laws would protect her, her daughters, and the daughters of all her subjects.

But she still suffered with the indignity of it all, feeling the emotions of her visitors anew. Having Sandrilene, two countries south, affect her politics, was an itch Berenene could not scratch. Ambros, the new Cleham of Landreg, was the most persistent lord in the council for changes in the empire – he would not have any such power in court had he not protected Sandry's estates so well and, eventually, inherited them himself, rather than letting Berenene use those resources to _her_ end. His presence among her nobility was another itch she could not scratch. Furthermore, Ambros had employed a madman of sorts, some token from her cousin's entourage, who apparently was able to keep the new _cleham_ abreast of various intrigues and plots among the capitol.

The voices in her head, however, were very different than the magically snatched stories than Zhegorz heard for _cleham_ Ambros. The great Syth, bordering her capitol and uniting the empire, was stealthily working on her agenda, with its own end.

* * *

Tris readjusted her boots for the fourth time, re-lacing the tops and double knotting them. She cursed the fact that Sandry had not had enough time to re-stitch her leatherworking for the winter. Chime rode on her shoulders and Tris could feel each glass claw reaching through her dress. Grumbling about her boots and her lack of shawl, the short redhead marched straight into a beautiful oasis.

After hours of hiking away from the primitive clay building in which she awoke, Tris's temper had grown. She had drawn off several of her braids to regain her energy, having realized she was awake and not in a dream. Tidal braids, lightning braids, and a bit of warmth from lava had finally had her feeling up to traveling away from the ruins. She was annoyed, however, at awaking and not knowing what had happened. She drew her magic close and threw herself into the winds to discover her location, simultaneously reaching for her siblings while in the sky.

The wind spoke at her, feeling malignant and present in a way she had not encountered.

" _What is this mortal thing which dare fly among the gods?"  
"Do you think milord will mind? She is a bit of a fatter wind."  
"Of course he'll mind! Where did she come from? Let's knock her out of the sky!"_

Moments later, Tris awoke in her own body, feeling worse than her braid draining should have left her. "Well," she dryly remarked to Chine, curled around her neck, "it seems to be a morning of strange occurrences." With the feeling that someone tugged on her magic, Tris scowled and tightened her grip on herself and the breezes around her.

Listening on the wind, Tris only heard the whispers of trees and soft shuffling of animals, though she kept her ears attentive for the strange voices in the air above her. Using her hard earned gift of seeing visions on the winds, Tris saw things that should belong in a dream. Since Tris had already decided she was awake or in a magical prison, she paid close attention to sights she beheld.

 _She saw steel feathered birds fight over a roost, volcanic lava spilling forth, as the creatures attempted to leave a metallic egg in their wake; the grey colored creatures she fought earlier galloped over an endless green field, as one stopped to rear at dark thunderclouds growing rapidly behind; tiny green human-shaped creatures met in a forest glade to converse, only to scatter when spider-things fell from overhead; animals met around a large body of water, arguing in animal speech; and larger than life humanoids argued in a courtyard of stone, where the vision of magical power made Tris's eyes water. Magic she had never seen and in a strength she could barely comprehend assaulted her. There was a gigantic snake in the vision, radiating power, sliding toward a figure in a dark cowled set of robes –but Tris was suddenly wrenched toward the far side of the courtyard where three figures glowed with power. One shimmered with a pale white light, glistening like dew on the ground; next to her, a large figure glinted with gold armor and each jerking move he made condensed strength around him. Across from them, wind swirled chaotically as the figure seemed to jingle jewelry up and down. The wind she focused on moved through her powerfully, but she saw that the figures watched chess pieces upon a board. They focused when a piece of the board would move itself, for power would condense acutely around each player when it occurred; as the breeze continued to blow past her, Tris saw the jewel bedecked figure grin when an opposing pawn fell._

* * *

Several weeks after the event, when she had authorized Isabel to perform the spells given by her new chief hostess, Berenene received a gift tailored to change her mind about ridding Emelan of the young mages.

A beautiful shakkan arrangement, complete with small streams and gardens, which used tiny clay pots to make terraces, was sent from Emelan. She knew the handiwork and the sentiment for which the gift had been sent to her. Before the disaster with her cousin, Briar Moss was almost within her power. And this reminder of her sanctuary, like the gardens she worked on before inheriting the throne, would be hers always, just as Briar could have been.

She knew she was doing the gods' work. After all, she was following the plan of the Sythuthan. He had begun to whisper in Berenene's ears some weeks after her cousin and siblings had defeated Isabel to cross the border. The arrival of Varice helped to solidify Berenene's resolve. Isabel and Quennail, her lieutenant mage, performed spell after spell, despite their misgivings about her orders. The Empress was asking them to perform magic that they had never seen before and worried them. Isabel believed the gods did not intervene this directly in mortal affairs, particularly with her level-headed empress who, before this, was no seer; Quennail objected the orders silently, mostly because his own actions regarding Sandry leaving the country had angered the Empress, who punished him with taxing magical work, straining his power reserves and mental fortitude.

In her dreams, Berenene was visited by the trickster god, the patron of the gigantic lake connecting the edges of her kingdom: the Syth personified and known as Sythuthan. Gods had visited members of her realm before, after all. Olennika Potcracker had left her service to open charity hospitals and kitchens due to Yorgiry's influence, so the mage claimed.

"Besides," the empress rationalized with herself for the hundredth time, "the deed is done." She could put further use to these new spells in her war with Yanjing. In addition, her chief mage Ishabel had been working on a series of curses to send to Berenene's so-called new allies in the Yamani Isles. The Yamani Emperor there had offended her greatly, for she sent couriers through the first portal to introduce her court to new realms; he had sent one back with a mocking attempt for alliance, claiming to keep the others as ornaments to his kingdom, as well as baskets of cherry blossoms to spread on her "fearsome lake." There was nothing like new magic and subtle hostage subplots to start warfare against her friends or enemies, and Berenene was always quick to pay off a debt.

Her next group to journey to this new world would not include courtiers for foreign emperors to keep. Merely banishing her cousin had not made her happy, as a girl of Sandrilene's skills could make a new life for herself without connections, money, or recommendation. Her magic and bold personality could easily pave the child a path in this new world. Berenene was decided then, to send an elite group of soldiers into her next portal, with a small attachment of Ishabel's mages. They would insure that Sandy and her siblings weren't making any connections in new realms, unless they were the realm of the dead. And if they happened to land in the Yaman Emperor's court, she wouldn't be too upset – the portal magic was not the most accurate thing Berenene commanded, particularly compared to her gardens or dress ensembles.

* * *

In the Divine Realms overlooking the Eastern Lands, the trickster god Sakuyo sat atop a hillside and watched the mortal realms through the lapping edges of a pond nearby, while cherry blossoms spread over the surface. He gleefully smirked as portals opened randomly throughout the world and followed closely in the reflections of the pond showing the mortal world: the Yamani Emperor started to send fleets eastward towards the main lands.

Sakuyo was dressed in several flowing kimonos, as he was one of the patron gods of the Yamani Islands. He was a minor god in several respects; however, as the two patron deities Yaman and _ took care of the major issues. He was a patron of laughter and jokes, practicality, and sign of forewarning in most respects. However, he was tired of being pushed aside, not only as a god, but also as a trickster.

His reflections were interrupted with a large blast of power, as a portal itself opened in the Divine Realms. A creature radiating with power stepped through, but Sakuyo stood to match its might, pressing his full godly essence in order to not be blown away. For the second time, Sakuyo and Sythuthan stood before each other.

"Well met, cousin," Sakuyo said with a quick bow. Sythuthan strode forward to grasp hands with the other god, shaking vigorously.

"Well met indeed," the trickster replied. "I am amazed to reach your realm, to speak the truth. You have such mobility here," he said while flexing his muscles and cracking his back.

Sakuyo laughed. "We have plenty of time to introduce you to the pleasures of our realms. In the meantime," he told the other, cracking his knuckles, "we have the two Greatest Gods at war with the patron Crooked God of our lands. The other divinities swoop around portals here and elsewhere; mortals throughout our realms struggle to find answers and control; your Empress and my Emperor court each other with offerings of flowers and baskets of vipers. It is the perfect time for minor pranksters like us to go down in history."

Sythuthan grinned, letting his long set of dark hair fall across his face. "I look forward to the opportunity."


	8. Chapter 8

Daja was struck silent with the beauty of the city she beheld. The road she had taken to the western capitol was well paved and well kept, keeping her in mind of Emelan and the journey between the Mire and Winding Circle; but when she reached the views overlooking the city, she gasped aloud.

Corus kept its palace district and common districts apart; the distinction showed from a far off distance. Later, Daja would see that the commoners and merchant guilds, though vocal in their assemblies, had very little to complain about, for the buildings, streets, and display areas were well built and functional. The smith also coolly noted that their merchant guilds had a fairly accomplished smithy. Though she did not notice visually at the time, due to the high walls shielding one of the master smiths forging a master accomplishment of a shield, within her magic Daja could sense that this capitol was prosperous and strong. Tortall may not have the type of magic she possessed, imbuing metal with the living powers she and her family could command, but they were not without strength.

Her escorts tried to hurry her along. Maura of Dunlath, the young lady who had "welcomed her to her home," had not left her without a guard, for she and her primary knight escort, Douglas of Venlith, had come along to the capitol with her, along with a Rider Group and company of the Knight's Own. Maura's urgent letter to the kingdom about a lone mage taking out several immortals, with little to no background information, caused the powers that be a fair bit of curiosity.

With the city in view and the various districts before her, Daja wondered that she would ever make a name for herself in this gigantic city, find her siblings or her own way home. The palace nestled next to eyesight of woods, and the palace district itself was cut off by narrow channels of waters. Drawbridges protected the palace, should the temple district, which bordered the royal tract with its polished marble and flowing staircases, ever be invaded. The four areas beyond those various noble districts housed the marketplace and residential areas, which were vast and hard to traverse; the mare that Maura had given Daja was finicky, but the well-traveled Trader was equal to handle any horse.

The city rushed about in its day to day business. However, the palace district and the temple district, particularly the Great Mother Goddess's temple, were eerily quiet. Sir Alanna of Olau and Pirate's Keep was keeping vigil within that temple, awaiting a goddess's portal to the Divine Realm. However much Alanna wished to journey alone, one companion would arrive on time to travel through with her, and Daja would have to help defend the capitol without its Champion, though neither women knew the trials they would face in the coming weeks.

Daja was approaching the palace district with her companions, little realizing the momentous amount of activity happening within. Several mages were collected in furious conversation, including the highest ranking mages and the nobles of the realm.

"Numair, you cannot be serious," Jonathan of Tortall began, before he was unceremoniously interrupted.

"Jon, you know better." Thayet, of peerless courage, swept past her husband. "But we must be sure of your intentions and if," and here the queen stepped away from the doorway to whisper, "if Diane will consent to this."

Numair kept his voice quiet as well, though he doubted Daine would use her power of shape-shifting to eavesdrop at such a time. "Not only do I know she _will not_ consent, but I want to keep this a secret as long as possible."

A newcomer, just leaving the room belonging to Daine and Numair, gently interrupted. "Your Highnesses, Numair, his Grace Duke Baird is about finished with his initial examination and will be exiting shortly. He asks to speak with you all in the meeting room near the Royal Quarters."

"Thank you, Lord Healer. You've done an admirable job as assistant Chief Healer through the Scanran War and we appreciate your continued work," Jonathan assured the mage. Blushing, the younger man led the monarchs and mage through hallways, as Daine and the official Royal Healer bickered in her room.

"You would think," Daine began somewhat bitterly, "that after months of not shape-shifting, caring for another baby, eating like a saint, and not murdering anyone, that my baby would make things a bit easier for me. But no," she barked, suddenly growing a mussel and a great amount of body hair, "give me one useful vision from the divine realms about a magical crisis, and the baby suddenly decides to start shifting a month before he has been born. And," she crowed, suddenly sprouting feathers and lightweight bones, "my husband is locked in War Council and won't come to see me."

"My dear," Duke Baird began, resting a glowing emerald hand against her forehead, "you do not need to fret. Numair will be here soon and several of my assistants will wait with you. I'm sure you remember Miss Kyrie and Miss Suziyen from your previous birth," he mentioned with a gesture to the two midwife mages behind him. They curtsied as Daine half morphed below the covers into something vaguely horse like, punching a hole through the sheet and narrowly missing the Chief Healer.

"Kit," Daine suddenly yelled out. With a loud screech, the young dragonet scrambled up the bed, dodging Daine's pregnant animalistic throes to perch near her head. Gently, Kitten preened her tangled and sweaty hair.

"Sweetling, find Numair and do not leave his side until he returns to me." Daine burst into sudden tears. "I do not want to be alone so long as my mother and father are so scared – I cannot bear to think that I can't help do _anything_ when he and I helped stopped Chaos herself."

Duke Baird had quietly made his exit during this conversation, leaving the midwife mages to their work, and he swiftly made his way to meet the father-to-be, king, and queen. Kitten, after hearing Daine's wishes, quickly followed, but only after verbally scolding the midwife rocking Sarralyn too quickly.

The conversation between the monarchs and the strongest mage in the realm had not cooled upon reaching their meeting room. When Duke Baird arrived, with a galloping Kitten rushing in behind, things were most tense.

"I do not approve of this plan," Jonathan was saying as Baird closed the door. "I do not approve at all."

"Jon, I understand your worries," Numair began, before being interrupted by the king.

"My Champion has been tasked by the Goddess herself to travel through the Divine Realms, crippling me of my sword arm. Now you wish to travel with her? With you two gone, and Daine practically in labor, I might as well wait for a portal to swallow the entire kingdom!" Huffing, he crashed into a velvet chair. Kitten ran over to twine around his legs, keeping him seated.

"We are not unprepared for disaster," Thayet calmly continued, "for we did much the same throughout the Immortals War and Scanran War, where our strongest warriors were spread far apart. But with civil unrest occurring both in the Copper Isles, Carthak, and even the Divine Realms, or so the Goddess made it appear to Alanna, it does seem daunting to send off our most powerful mages."

"Nonetheless," Numair continued, "I need to go with Alanna. I've been to the Divine Realms before, made studies of lore that could assist her. She is fearsome, both in arms and magic, but she will need help of the strongest kind. She cannot take many people with her, so they must be chosen carefully. We cannot risk her failing in the quest assigned to her; if the portals appearing in the Divine Realms are similar to those throughout the mortal kingdoms, it would be ridiculous not to send mages to discover the cause."

"But," Duke Baird chimed in, "what will you tell your wife? She is currently expecting a second child who, due to the duress of Daine seeing her divine parents in peril, has started a premature labor involving shape-shifting. This is not the ideal time for her husband to disappear."

"Daine will understand," Numair said, though Kitten squawked loudly. With a pointed look at the dragon, Numair continued. "Alanna is already keeping vigil at the Goddess's temple; she gave a short window for the Lioness and her companions to travel through a portal of her design. Alanna foolishly thinks she can do this alone and she cannot and should not."

* * *

Briar reached Rajmuat in chains. The mages aboard his ship down the other islands were less forgiving after his attack on his previous transport, having caused boards to awaken and trap the Chain mage. This in consideration, the Chain kept close eyes on him, particularly when they had heard their patron god was in battle above, in the Divine Realms.

Briar had never encountered their type of creeping magic before. It slipped into his mind as subtly as the sleeping spells of Yanging. His constant practice and awareness guarded him, though it was a constant struggle. He persistently reached and engaged with the wooden bars of his ship and the wooden bases to his cages in attempts to avoid the raka spells. However, the pressure of mages and spells they cast were eventually able to push past his consistent watch one night during his sleep, until he was finally carried to his new prison, the beautiful Balitang town house in the center of the capitol.

The barriers were wooden, the floors, the pavilions, the front gates planted amuck with livery. Briar grinned wickedly, briefly palming the shiny new slave collar around his neck, pushing any living metal magic he retained from Daja, but pulled himself back into his _temporary_ diminished state as his new owners entered.

"Well," Aly said, "this is an interesting find," speaking in Kryprish. Her necklace vibrated briefly against her neck. The general Ulasim grinned, seeing Aly pleased, Nawat gave a swift crow shoulder shrug, and Briar, woozy and only a bit abashed, decided to charm. The two men and young girl happened to be the only commanders within the meeting room at the time of Brair's drop off, to his benefit. Ochabu would have set him aflame and Chenaol would be aflame in another sense, inviting Briar to help knead her dough for the morning, after some intensive physical interrogation.

"Your Ladyship, you must forgive my unkempt appearance," Briar said, with a gallant bow. Since he had been shown in through servants' quarter, chained hand to foot, he figured a gallant gesture might help to appease. He quickly took stock again magically; the pavilion near the quarters was full of plant life to aide him, but he was also quick to notice the level of spells surrounding him. The rooms keeping him were well-protected with some of the strongest spells he had seen in this new country. He was not positive with the symbols, but he knew spells for secrecy and protections were common, though not in the servants' quarters of a household.

"Your Ladyship is very impressed with the way you made your way to Rajmuat," the young lady replied, in his same language. She briskly rearranged her sarong and tunic, which Briar noticed pulled the fabric tightly across her pert breasts and revealed the smallest amount of ankle and calf. She held a smile of easiness and goodwill across her face. Briar was charmed, and recognizing tricks he often employed, dropped his gallant attitude for servitude.

"I apologize for any trouble I gave your servants – had I known I would be coming to such servitude, I would have been as docile as a lamb. My previous masters were not so kind. In fact, I do not understand the native language well, so I feel I was a burden."

The young woman, seemingly his new mistress, laughed heartily after he finished speaking, gently rubbing her dark onyx necklace. She leaned against a countertop, as they seemed to be in a stockroom of some sort; Briar remained alert, for the other companions looked less than amiable. The tall, well-dressed servant seemed to pull command around his mantle; the other youth, sitting cross-legged on a counter, radiated danger and power in the same way the crow-like soldiers had – Briar's sight detected the strangest type of magic around this man and the woman keeping his attention, a magic he was not used to seeing, even amongst the new raka mages. That all three people sharing the room had power, he was sure of.

"You speak Common well," the young woman continued, examining the nail beds on her hand, with a slight head tilt in his direction, "though it seems you are not fluent in Kyprish. How came you to the Isles?"

Briar kept his answer short, suddenly sure he might have found himself in company he could not keep comfortably. His waking in the jungle and being caught by highland raka was accounted for briefly. The manservant and young soldier nodded in conjunction with his story, for Nawat had been privy to this interaction personally, though they weren't as fluent in the language Aly and Briar used.

"Interesting," Aly continued, "though I'm more interested in where you came before you woke in the jungles. Where is your homeland? How are you employed?"

Briar hesitated briefly, but saw that the two men were holding their breath in a tense manner. He answered, "I'm not sure where I am from."

The young woman laughed. "Don't be coy, stranger, or lie to me. My companions already have your death planned in a watery grave with flesh-eating fish should I choose. I refuse to put you anywhere near the jungles or jaguars, since they seem to like you so. So answer again."

Briar scowled a bit, hating the casualness of the threat, reflecting he was almost used to being pushed into corners in foreign realms. He opened his mouth to reply, but halted briefly when the woman put her hand to her neck with a cocked head.

She briefly turned and spoke to the two men, plainly asking to be briefly excused. With a bright grey-eyed glance back at Briar, she stepped out of the stockroom, giving Briar his first opportunity to view his male captors fully.

The older man was well-dressed as a high ranking footman with dark skin and braided hair. His arms bulged with muscles and Briar could see indentions where he likely wore weaponry on his underclothes. His dark direct gaze never faltered from Briar. Briar was strangely reminded of Skyfire, the First Dedicate of the Fire Temple of Winding Circle – both men had the look of veterans, though both may be dressed in religious or domestic clothes.

The younger man Briar puzzled over. The gift of seeing magic that he and his siblings shared had done well thus far in this new country. He was able to pick out mages of all kind with ease, though he could see that almost none of them shared ambient power like he did. It most resembled academic mages he was accustomed to, though the raka's magic was so subtle to be almost invisible under some mages' skin. The young lady holding the meeting as well carried a power strong enough to be slightly visible to Briar, though not a form of active magery he had seen before.

But the youth, like some of the strange crow soldiers who had ferried him to Rajmuat, Briar was unsure of. Shape shifting crows were something he had already tried to fathom and he did not want to believe it, but he knew he would be ready to fight blade, magic, or beak if he needed to escape his newest prison.

The young woman returned to the room with a curious look on her face, a mixture of smugness and nonchalance. Briar felt slightly unnerved to see how much it reminded him of himself.

"Nothing important to report," she told Ulasim and Nawat in Kyprish and briskly turned back to Briar. Cocking an eyebrow, Aly again employed her Sight to take in the newest complication to a dangerous revolution.

Handsome, green-eyed, dark hair and bronze skin: these were all things she could see without her magical heritage. When she shifted her Sight upon the young man, she was almost staggered. The amount of strength he held was immense, though not as overwhelming as her mother, Numair, or even Ochobu; however, she could see he had means to draw on four or five other resources, though those links appeared very faintly in her vision. The vine and flower tattoos around his arms blazed with power and, given the reports of his exploits on the way to Rajmuat, she knew his strength would lie with living plants.

Aly had many more reports to decode; the luarin conspiracy had just joined with the household and she wanted Dove and the leaders to know the highest detail from the palaces. However, she did not want a rogue mage causing trouble. So she leaned over the central table, leaving her bottom near Nawat, with a quick grin to her crow-man, and spoke to Briar.

"Answer quickly, and do not lie," she instructed, turning her Sight on him. In Briar's magical sight, her lively grey eyes began to glow as she called on her power. He blanched visibly and decided that his time being mischievous safely had come to an end.  
"What is your name and home?"  
"Briar Moss. I reside in Summersea, the capitol of Emelan."  
"To whom are you employed?"  
"Myself and anyone I might choose. As of now, my only outstanding obligations are to the Duke of Emelan and my teacher, the Earth Dedicate Rosethorn of Winding Circle."  
"Why are you in the Copper Isles?"  
"I have no idea."  
"What do you know of the raka, the luarin, of the rulers of this realm?"

Briar paused the quick rapid-fire answers suddenly, with visible notice by his three captors. He took a deep breath and answered passionately.

"I have seen slavery and murder since I found myself in this land. Dark-skinned people taking supposed vengeance among their white overseers. And, not having anything explained to me, I took several weeks of travel down these long seas to form an opinion."

"You seem to be bordering on a revolution – I have seen empires too strong to overthrow, with leaders both charismatic and cruel. I don't care, frankly, and wish your soldiers hadn't found me slightly off my wits in the jungle. I wish I was there now, so I could find out what happened to me." He laughed bitterly and continued. "I've had my fill of cages, yours and others, so question me all you like. But if you do not let me go soon, I'll bring this house down amidst all these rich neighbors, in the noisiest way possible. And if I can ever find a way to reach my sisters, teacher, or student, you'll begin to wish you had left me alone in the first place."

Aly smiled, like her father would smile when she was able to decode the strongest code from agents in Tusaine, having not seen a single lie from this questioning. Waving a hand behind her at Ulasim and Nawat to not worry, she poured a glass of strong arak for Briar to have. After he sniffed the liquor disdainfully, she poured them both pomegranate tea.

"Revolution is a strong word, strange magic man," she told him playfully. "But I have other questions, if you would be so kind, and I have no threats at all to offer at the moment." She batted vibrant eyes, glowing again in Briar's sight.

* * *

"Your Imperial Highness," Sandry greeted as she curtsied, spending an iota of effort to appear charming. Her skirts fell elegantly, but Sandry blushed at the extra effort she had to make, using her power to slightly ripple her veils and sleeves, as if a breeze touched only her with the movement. Embroideries and linings would have charmed these new strangers and their court, particularly when they all stared at her pale white hands and forehead; having such distinctive alabaster coloring was not common, having come out of the middle of their southern deserts, though she saw plenty other pale skinned couriers having come north. Still, Sandry knew that clothes she could have made on her own could have soothed, charmed, and impressed all before her, and she briefly cursed, for what seemed to be the hundredth time, that she did not know her status here, power with money and influence, or where her siblings were.

Kaddar did not notice her brevity of address or her blush, nor did his new Empress Kalasin, formerly of Tortall. He greeted Sandry as if she were any noble chief of the villages to the south of Carthak City. However, his messengers and spies among the merchants had told him of the pale, blue eyed woman who had suddenly appeared in his nation. Knowing full well that the Graveyard Hag would come to him herself, being the patron of Carthak, and not recognizing her, he was curious to know whether she was a spy, or secret magical assassin, of the southern villages.

Sandry, not understanding the languages of her merchant caravan and not knowing the general landscape in which she was traveling, couldn't realize that Carthak was in the midst of an unspoken civil war. The coastal western nations, with their proud naval units that completely outstripped in the tiny Inland Sea northern units, were trying to break away from the empire, looking to use the Copper Isles' civil strife to make quick slave trade sales. The southern villages, having finally harvested a worthwhile crop after years of drought, were selling to any eastern caravan coming through. Kaddar had already beggared part of the capitol, rebuilding the city and temples to its greatest strength after his quick ascension to his rule; the University, his intellectual hotbed of information and power, was also running low on funds, as their anti-slavery attitude had reached the ears of the far-out nobles – nobles who couldn't afford their miles and miles of cash crops without slave holdings. And, even if they could, it was certainly not a change they would make without imperial payouts.

All these things aside, their country had been ripped apart with strange storms and immortal breakouts. This, besides the portal that had unceremoniously dumped Sandry within their midst, was proof of magical anomalies by the dozen. With all these factions quietly pressing themselves against one another, and the crown, Kaddar would not be surprised to see coup d'état or revolts in the next several weeks, if not months or years. These things being outside of Sandry's kin, and certainly something her foreign escorts would avoid discussing around her, she was in more of a perilous situation than she even imagined.

The well-dressed young woman was something of a novelty, in such a case. Kaddar certainly found her attractive and intriguing, considering her weeks of travel through the southern deserts with no background to trace. In the same course of things, he noticed his new Empress eyeing them both with as much interest as he studied the girl, so he tried to appear regal and impartial.

Speaking in Common, as she had, Kaddar slightly lowered his head into a nod. "Welcome to the capitol, Lady Sandrilene. We hope you enjoyed your journey north." As Sandy curtseyed anew, he went on. "We will have much to discuss about your travels and origins when the evening's festivities have ended and you have rested."

The rest of the evening was a busy blur for Sandry, who keep her own consul and wits about her. She noticed more than the Carthak courtiers gave her credit for, as she kept her veils around her face; though she couldn't understand distant problems plaguing the empire, which southern and eastern diplomats discussed in Carthaki rapidly, she stood close enough to University scholars and mages throughout the dinner reception, who were thankfully conversing in Common, the only language she had thus understood. This was how she discovered the many problems plaguing the empire, from western soldier rebellion and southern merchant disagreements. Compounded with tax collection problems and subtle hints from large slave holding settlements, Sandry found herself comfortably reading the politics around her.

 _I could be of assistance here_ , she thought suddenly. _My work with Uncle has me well equipped to be an advisor to a country, or an empire. My travels from the south has given me a firsthand look at travel conditions and_ , with a slight grin, _the attitudes of commanders of trade stops. Beyond which_ , she gave a swift look to the black emperor, chatting steadily with members of the University, and then to his new dark-haired but alabaster empress, sitting alone on her pedestal beside one lady-in-waiting, _I could find out much more and be of more assistance as a companion to the crown_. With a quick shake of her veils and skirts, which always compellingly moved to her command, she approached the dais.

With a curtsey to the lady-in-waiting, who moved several steps to meet her first, Sandry explained her plan.

"Good evening, milady," Sandry began, "but I wanted to inquire whether your mistress speaks the same language as me. She is seated alone on the dais and, as I have no one to keep me company, wished to impose myself on her company."

"You are very forward," the lady started in the same language, giving Sandry some disapproval while confirming the ability to converse. "However, Empress Kalasin does speak this dialect; she may wish to make your acquaintance, if you would wait a moment."

Sandry curtsied well as the lady moved away. Within moments, she was ushered forward to the steps before Kalasin, the Empress of Carthak, formerly of Tortall, and she curtsied as deeply as she once had to the Empress of Namorn.

"Lady Sandrilene," the young Kalasin murmured in a deeply musical voice, "I would love to make your acquaintance. We will have much to discuss, I am sure."


End file.
